The Suit
by SaterHelberg
Summary: 'He had no power left to fight his self-pity. His jaws opened slowly as he wailed in silence, sinking into the black, bottomless pit of a dreamless sleep.' All Rocket Raccoon wanted was a new protective suit, but he got more than he bargained for when a deal with a treacherous surgeon backfired. Version 3.02.
1. The Surgeon

**Notes:**

The movie 'Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)' begs for a background story about Rocket's implants, so here's a variant.

I figured that maybe the abrasive yet loveable animal hero didn't get them on Halfworld, but at another occasion, later in his life.

This is _Version 3.02 of the story: I had a second beta read and corrected the text again. I hope the punctuation and sentence structure is more according to standards now. It should be easier to follow who is talking and which person is refered to. Some English word mix ups like lute - loot and loose - lose have been corrected._

Thanks Sandra and Ravenreux for betaing my story! I learned a lot from it and am still learning more. Thanks you other guys and girls for all the reviews, comments, suggestions, etc. You really helped me to improve my story.

Thanks a lot, Natasja Koster, for drawing a stunning cover picture for the story.

 _You're welcome to provide feedback any time. If you want to discuss the story more in depth, please email me at SaterHelberg AT hotmail DOT com.  
_

* * *

 **The Surgeon**

Rocket Raccoon managed to move himself to an emergency portal on Kree-Lar's Main Space Port, leaving a trail of blood. The device beamed him to the renowned private clinic of Tor-Nal. In the admission area, he collapsed on all fours while coughing up red mucus. The surgeon sped in. With a trembling hand, the gunshot mammal reached into his pocket and showed him a handful of shiny, reddish gems. The doctor took them with a satisfied smile. The victim lost consciousness. An assistant skilfully raised him onto a stretcher and hastily wheeled him into an operating room.

The next day, the patched up raccoon woke up in a patient room, dressed in white PJ's. It took him a while to get his bearings. _The place looked familiar; he had been here before on two or three occasions._

Half consciously, he stepped out of the bed and went to the toilet. Back in the room, he checked out his belongings and went back to sleep.

Some hours later, he came to again. His chest felt sore. Slowly, he rolled up his shirt to have a look. A nasty plasma burn had eaten its way into his torso; but now the shattered bones had been renewed and the skin was closed. Only the fur had to grow back. _Not bad. Tor-Nal was an expensive, greedy bastard, but Rocket could rely on the medic whenever his thievish undertakings went awry._

Like the day before. The cunning ringtail had it all figured out. _A jewellery store on Xandar. Not his usual type of target. He had good info, though. A shipment of expensive red diamonds were kept in a safe for half a day. A safe he could work with, a security system that hadn't been updated for a while. That's just begging for property redistribution to the benefit of a lonely mammal who had to fend for himself. He had been out of a proper job for a long time and needed to eat, fuel his ship, things like that._

His thoughts started to wander. _Shortly after he left Halfworld, he was a pretty decent guy. And a fine security officer too. He had applied for the function on various planets, only to be laughed at. Once, a recruiter called him 'shorty'. In response, the raccoon jumped onto the table and pointed a gun to his face in less than half a second. Rocket had meant to demonstrate his skills; but while he did it, he released an involuntarily, angry and frustrated growl; it made him look dangerous and unbalanced. Not long after, he reluctantly started a criminal career. He needed to eat, fuel his ship and the like._

 _What had gone wrong yesterday? He was about to leave the store with the loot in his pocket when he could see the Nova Corps arrive from afar. Without delay, he switched to plan B: blast the back entrance and make a run for his ship. He rushed on all fours for maximum velocity._

 _On the Xandarian Space Port, he ran into more Nova officers. He jumped up, fired to take out one after the other when he got hit in the chest. The pain was excruciating. He barely made it to his trusted ship (that looked a bit like the good old 'Rakk 'N' Ruin'), launched into space and activated a medibot to keep him from bleeding to death._

Many questions occupied his mind. _He hadn't been on Xandar for a while. Had he underestimated the risk? Could the security system of the shop have been upgraded in the mean time? Why didn't the Nova officers fall down neatly when he shot them? Their suits looked different, upgraded. That much his night vision eyes had picked up in the dark. Maybe he needed a bigger gun. And a better suit. He looked at his black-red protective suit that had been draped over a chair. There was a big gap in the front of the jacket. He needed to visit his tailor-engineer Lom-Dag to get the thing mended after the hospital would release him._

All of a sudden, his introspections were interrupted. Tor-Nal, the surgeon, marched in. With an angry voice, the medic stretched his right arm, displaying a handful of units and said, "What is this supposed to be?"

Rocket looked at him, slightly confused and still a bit drugged; he gazed at the Kree's blue face and then at his hand. He replied dryly, "I see ya got my change. What's the problem?"

"Change? Problem? You joker! This is all I got for them: 3000 units!"

Jumping up to a sitting pose and looking shocked, his business partner snapped, "What? 3000? They are worth ten times as much!"

The MD rebutted, "They are not! What are you trying to pull here?"

Now Rocket got annoyed. Making angry gestures, he snapped, "Do ya think I'm playin' ya? Ya flarkin' idiot! Who did ya sell 'm to? Freddy the Rat?" He paused for a second. "Ya didn't go to No Face, did ya? Ya did? Man, he's a rip off. Ya got flarked big time! The merch is genuine, I tell ya."

The medic shouted, "No, it's not! You got me replicas. Fake! Artificial! You made a mistake and you own me the rest of the fee."

The small mammal didn't say a word, but carefully studied the doctor's expression. Then he smirked, "Nice show, doc. I'm gettin' the impression here that _you_ want to rip _me_ off. Ya greedy sonuvabitch." With a stern look he barked, "but I'm not fallin' for that. I got ya a handful of nice rocks, ya accepted the payment. The deal's done!"

The doctor lost his patience, muttering bitterly, "I know I should have sold you to the lab a long time ago." Suddenly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a syringe that he kept there for cases like this and grabbed the arm of the surprised ringtail. Only to have a big blaster shoved to his nose. The well-prepared lawbreaker had pulled it out from under his pillow.

"Drop the needle, doc!" He commanded. As a response, a 'ting' sound came up from the ground.

Decisively, Rocket slid off the mattress, wielding his weapon. The crooked specialist held his hands upward. The ring-tailed thief walked towards his garments, not letting the quack out of his sight. While he undressed and put on his suit, proficiently keeping the gun pointed at his target, he wryly said, "You Kree are all the same! Takin' advantage of other species. Good thing I found out before ya could do anythin' despicable." He calmly stepped towards the cowardly doctor and snatched the units out of his trembling hand. "I'm gonna need those," the foiled mammal said.

Tor-Nal caught his breath while his ex-partner walked backwards to the door. Then the MD ranted, "Don't ever come back here!" With a shaky index finger he warned, "We're not done yet, you hear me! I'll get you for this!"

"Yeah, whatever. Pleasure doin' business with you too, doc," the recovered patient sarcastically retorted before he closed the door and fused the lock with his blaster.

* * *

The Kree surgeon didn't take this well. Being ripped off, threatened and imprisoned in his own clinic! By a lower life form! After his staff got him out, he was steaming mad and took the rest of the day off.

Feeling very frustrated, he contacted one of his underworld connexions to determine the origin of the gems. He hoped for a way to get back at his renegade associate. He found out about the robbery on Xandar and sent an anonymous tip to the Nova Corps. If they hadn't identified the masked thief by then, this would certainly help.


	2. The Tailor and the Thief

**The Tailor, the Thief, the Officer and his Scientist**

While Rocket was still on Hala, the Kree Empire's central planet, he visited his tailor-engineer Lom-Dag. The ringtail entered the atelier where the tailor sat busily in front of a rack full of military armour suits. The artist greeted the guest in a fashion that was atypical for a Kree, "Hello there, mister Raccoon!"

"Nice to see ya too, Lom-Dag."

"I guess your jacket needs to be fixed?"

"Nothin' gets by ya," the mammal replied cheerfully. There was a big gap in the garment, showing a furless patch of skin.

"How's our friend Tor-Nal?" he inquired.

"He's not my friend anymore," Rocket responded briefly, making a hand gesture to cut off a discussion about the unpleasant subject.

Barely noticeably, the engineer raised his eyebrows. However, he knew his client's need for discretion, so he dropped the topic.

"I got hit big time, I need something against plasma rifles."

"I can set you up with a small electric field generator and a feedback loop. It's pretty standard these days; I'm surprised you haven't got any yet."

"OK, drop the ad. What's it gonna cost me?"

"2000 on top."

The impoverished ringtail needed to let it sink in for a few moments. 2000 wasn't a lot of money for that kind of equipment, but his last deal didn't pay off well and he had other expenses that he needed to think about. In his mind, he was already searching for new opportunities to get credits. Lots of it, so he would be out of trouble for a long time.

"2000? Ye're killin' me, man, ye're killin' me ... but OK, 2000 'coz I like ya."

The tailor got up and fetched a spare suit for his client. A previous version that he kept as a service. Rocket changed into the old gear while he looked at the impressive military grade suits on the rack, back in the shop.

"I sure 'd like one of those," he said eagerly.

Lom-Dag let out a short chuckle, and told him, "You at least have to rob the Collector to be able to afford one of these. They contain anti-grav equipment, very expensive." He paused and continued, "Not that I'm allowed to sell one outside the Kree army. The High Command would have me executed on the spot."

Although the man sounded friendly as ever, his last remark certainly wasn't a joke. In the Local Group of Galaxies, a number of large empires lived on the edge of war. They were rather protective about proprietary military tech. A small burglar like Rocket had to think of other ways to keep himself out of harm's way.

 _Yet, the thing about robbing the Collector didn't sound bad at all. It had been tried before. Very risky. However, it hadn't been attempted by a clever, sentient raccoon yet. Well, there's a first time for everything._ As Rocket walked out of the store, he started to do some planning.

* * *

The more he looked into it, the more possibilities he saw. Taneleer Tivan, better known as the Collector, had an impressive collection of unique artefacts and life forms in his 'museum' on Knowhere. He didn't display them publicly. However, visitor reports had been compiled into an improvised overview that could be downloaded from various information networks. The lists were tagged with price information and even mentioned interested clandestine buyers.

This time, the ring-tailed robber double-checked that he had the most up-to-date info about the security system. He took residence on Knowhere for a week, meticulously gathering information and preparing the heist.

Finally, the big day had come. He managed to get inside the museum, worked his way through the security setup, systematically disabling protective layers. He got to one of the display rooms, where he snatched a number of goods he had preselected. And one item he came across that wasn't on his list. Although taking stuff that wasn't on your list was a bad practice, he took it anyway. A piece of living wood from Planet X. It faintly reminded him of home, of Halfworld. Having his hands and pockets full, he carried the piece of wood behind his teeth, hidden in his muzzle.

As he ran to his ship, he had bad luck again. A group of local Nova Corps officers spotted and captured him - much to his surprise. The Nova Corps had no authority on Knowhere. Taking a prisoner there is against Knowhere's neutrality policy; it would actually amount to kidnapping. Not the Corps style. Did he piss off someone? Probably yes; he could compile a rather lengthy list of candidates. Apparently, catching the culprit red-handed was too good an occasion to pass. Or maybe he had been ratted out. He was transported to Xandar and held in a police cell.

* * *

Meanwhile, the surgeon learned via a corrupt Nova officer that Rocket had been caught. He still wanted his money and brooded over a way to accomplish this.

That night, the doctor had a dinner with old fraternity friends and their wives. Admiral Bor-Nat, a well-respected officer, and Yan-Del, a scientist who had made a career in the military science department.

Tor-Nal was envious of his good friend Yan-Del but hid it well. The MD had applied for Yan-Del's position shortly after he graduated from med school, but was rejected. His friends looked at the surgeon with a bit of dismay for not achieving such a highly valued position. On the other hand, the healthcare entrepreneur was a rich man. He did well for himself and that was enough reason to respect the old frat-boy despite his previous failure.

The lead scientist Yan-Del bragged a bit about his current achievements, "Did you gents ever hear about a planet called Earth?"

"Earth, that's a funny name for a planet," Tor-Nal answered. His mood had improved a lot since his latest mishaps. "Where have I heard that name before?"

Yan-Del continued, "Yes, rather peculiar that name. It's in the Milky Way galaxy. For some reason a local sentient species, humans, are prone to interesting mutations. We just caught one. I can't disclose to you what he can do, but he's fascinating. We are running tests in the next weeks and hope we can determine what causes his special abilities by doing a post-mortem."

"I've heard about that planet," the admiral remarked. "They have these rogue mutant forces that can be rather destructive. I heard the Skrull got hold of some of the biotech."

"We should do some more harvesting then," the laboratory manager said casually.

Tor-Nal interjected, snapping his fingers, "Yes, Earth. I've been working with a genetically engineered Earth-based mammal. A most intriguing critter. Very dense bone structure. It seems they have a lab revolving a nearby star system, where androids create GE animals."

"That's quite a story, Tor-Nal," Yan-Del said. "How did this creature end up in your clinic?"

"Lom-Dag, the tailor-engineer, made a combat suit for the mammal. That's how I know him. He's a mischievous little guy. Catches a lot of gunfire. As you know, that's our specialty. Even the military bring us casualties from time to time. We make them as good as new."

Bor-Nat confirmed, "Lom-Dag? Excellent craftsman. The man makes credits on the side by selling outdated protective tech to inferior creatures." He joked, "Lucky for you, Tor-Nal, not the best quality, otherwise you would be out of business."

A civilised laughter followed. The medic grinned without joy. He hated the pun at the expense of his greed; he had a reputation that was hard to shake off.

Bor-Nat continued, "As you know, we are upgrading our gravimetric shielding technology." He signalled confidentiality to his friends, bent slightly forward and added in a lowered voice, "The Nova Corps seems to beat us this time however; they are working on something new. If they succeed, they have a graviton generator that is small enough to fit in the palm of a hand."

The guests were impressed.

"I sure would like to do some testing with that equipment," Yan-Del said, giving the high army officer a meaningful look.

The admiral dipped his lips with his napkin. He said thoughtfully, "I get your drift. But I can't get a green light for such an operation." He added regretfully, "It may be interpreted as an act of war. Things are not how they used to be."

The dinner continued for a while longer. Local liquors were consumed and the evening ended as pleasantly as it had started.

After the surgeon got back home, he put two and two together and devised a plan. An official mission to get the Nova tech would be out of the question, but he could think of a very unofficial mission that would involve a certain Earth mammal. If he could make the little rat steal the priceless device and got hold of it, he would finally get the recognition he desired and earn himself any job he wanted. That was his entry ticket to the highly regarded military research department. Much more rewarding than the lousy units he had been shaking off the critter.

The surgeon contacted the corrupt Nova officer he knew and gave the man instructions. The Nova officer hacked into the police database to assure that Rocket was transferred to a prison close to the Nova research facility where the new protective technology was developed. The Nova officer in turn was acquainted with a group of criminals in that prison who were eager to do business with him. He sent them a message, involving them in the plot.


	3. Prison Break and Heist

**Prison Break and Heist**

The furry criminal was transported to the Moorak Dul correctional facility on Xandar.

In every prison the half-sized mammal had arrived thus far, he got a hell of a welcome. They always pick on the little ones. Devoid of his beloved weapons, the feisty raccoon would put his claws, teeth and surprisingly strong muscles to work to disfigure a few inmates and earn some respect.

This time, there wasn't much of a fight. He figured that he had built himself quite a reputation by now. If he had paid more attention, he would have noticed a few individuals who broke up the skirmish by giving subtle signs to the initiators of the harassment. However, his disappointment about his latest failure made him feel depressed and less vigilant.

Somehow, the little piece of wood, the only thing from the robbery he had managed to keep, gave him comfort. He had kept it in his mouth all the time and got used to its taste. After being installed in jail, he put the piece away in a makeshift pocket of his prison uniform. He had noticed that the wooden entity had changed shape, but thought that it must have been deformed while he had hidden it between his molars.

That same day, he kind of befriended a group of three criminals who didn't seem too stupid, even by Rocket's standards. The guy who did most of the talking was a Xandarian named Bardan. He had a tough appearance; possibly ex-Corps. The man didn't sound like how he looked though, talking with a somewhat posh accent, speaking in literary sentences and intermixing his cheerful monologues with humour that the rest didn't seem to get.

 _The flarknard is a talking book_ , Rocket thought.

The second man was a tall, green guy; hairless, with an almost nose-less face. Bardan called him 'Mandos'. Every time Bardan cracked a joke, he gave Mandos a friendly punch on the shoulder and laughed like a girl. Mandos didn't respond to the punches. The beanstalk hardly seemed to respond to anything, although he looked attentive. Probably he was a Mandos from planet Mand and nobody knew his name, so that's why Bardan had christened the man 'Mandos'.

The third member had the lovely name Rowlr Zas, a Mephitisoid female. Mephitisoids are a humanoid race with some mammalian properties, such as fur, cat-like ears and a wonderful fluffy tail. Rocket thought she was the hottest thing he'd ever seen and had a hard time keeping his eyes from her. Whenever he directed his attention to her, which he did a lot, he tried to flirt. Albeit the good-looking lady acted aloof and hardly seemed to notice the furry Casanova, which made him pretty frustrated. Little did he know the skunk-like woman was playing the furry mammal with her pheromones.

Rocket had an escape plan. He always did. As a former security officer, he knew where to look. From the moment a prison came in sight, he paid attention to useful little details and stored them in his almost photographic memory. By the time he had been admitted, showered and redressed, he had the basic layout map of the prison in his head, knew the locations of detection equipment, noticed where keys were kept, and whatever else could come in handy. Generally, he would spend a few days looking around, checking out the local crowd, perfecting his plan and then making contact with a select company he could trust - as far as you can trust someone in a prison. If he could escape by his own, that would be his preferred option; but most plans required a small team.

Now he had hooked up with this trio the first day he got in. The gang members used code language to signal to the new inmate that they were planning to escape and sought a fourth crewmember.

Rocket should have been suspicious. The first day was too soon and he wasn't the one who was taking the initiative. Two bad signs. Only this time, he was a bit too eager to get out and make things right. Like an even bigger heist to ease the pain on his losses. And boy, would he like to bang the Mephitisoid!

It seemed like Bardan had been babbling for hours when he finally changed the subject. He told that Mandos had interesting info and gave him the word. In a strange and outlandish voice, the towering guy explained, "Nova Research Centre. Experimental graviton generator. Very valuable."

Bardan added, "I already have buyers lined up. This is top of the bill military technology. They are willing to pay through the nose."

The ring-tailed bandit was very much interested, which he showed tactically by looking only moderately interested. It sounded almost too good to be true. He didn't even have to leave the planet to get there. He could practically walk over and take the commodity.

With help of a corrupt guard and Rocket's ingenuity, the escape went so smoothly that it's hardly worth mentioning.

* * *

After they got out, the raccoon could stay in a hideout with his pals. His new associates even managed to get him his suit and other belongings back.

The next day, they started to plan how to hit the research centre. Not surprisingly, it was heavily guarded and proved a tough challenge, even for someone with Rocket's capacities. Luckily, they found an insider who could provide strategic information. The furred hacker established a remote connection to the centre's computer network and performed a few test runs. The security system was not impermeable to his skills. Bardan had resources who were willing to finance the whole setup; everything looked just dandy.

And yes, Rocket managed to get to sleep with the Mephitisoid, who played hard to get; but well, who could resist such a handsome raccoon? He didn't get seconds though. He suspected that she wanted to give him an incentive to be loyal to the group. As it would turn out, her doubts about her furry lover's trustworthiness were not entirely misguided.

During spare hours, he did some thinking. _He could not trust his surgeon anymore. Getting a state of the art protective suit for himself wouldn't be a bad idea. He believed that his fellows were able to get the job done properly, but that's where his trust ended. So he concocted a rip deal. He had to be the one who held on to all key components. He devised an alternative escape route, only known to him, to leave the research centre. It would be best if the rest were arrested, to keep them from bad ideas such as tracking him down and being all revengeful_.

After a few weeks of developing and testing the plan, the group was confident enough to put it to practice. Bardan led them through endless rounds of repeating facts and memorizing.

"Mandos, your part."

"Get graviton emitter."

"Rocket, what do you get?"

The raccoon let out a long sigh. He hated these sessions. He had it all stored in his memory right from the start. On the other hand, he needed to play the game to prevent suspicion. "Schematics of one: the emitter; two: the sensor network; three: the controller."

"Green man, why do we need the hardware?"

"Can not be reproduced. Needed for analysis."

"Furry friend, why the schematics?"

"OK, fer the last time. Without schematics, the emitter is useless. Ya need the sensor network and the controller software in a suit to make the emitter generate a counter-G-force-field."

"And the schematics of the emitter are needed for reverse engineering the hardware," Rowlr Zas added.

"Thanks hun, I could've come up with that myself." He cuddled the Mephitisoid who sat next to him and kissed her cheek. She smiled at him and looked very seductive. The untrustworthy suitor felt regret about his intention to betray the sweet looking woman. Nevertheless, he decided to stick with his plan. _Plenty of women to go around once I'm indestructible_ , he promised himself.

* * *

The operation went as smoothly as planned. Rowlr Zas was a natural in confusing and taking out the guards. Rocket compromised the security computer. The plan even included the usage of a mobile portal system to get to the proper locations within the building. The furry hacker downloaded the schematics. Mandos stole the emitter from the vault. The cunning raccoon then used a switch trick to rob the green giant of the emitter without raising suspicion. He triggered a false alarm to get the gang running to an emergency exit, while he sneaked off through an alternate route to the outside. None of his mates saw the dissident bandit leave, being too busy to save themselves. To no avail, because some security guards turned out to be in a place where they shouldn't have been if the plan hadn't been compromised.

The victorious robber ran to his ship, hidden on a strategic location, and headed back to Kree space where he set up a meeting with Lom-Dag, his tailor-engineer.


	4. Betrayed

**Betrayed**

Arriving on Hala, the raccoon set up a meeting with his tailor-engineer Lom-Dag. In a back room of his atelier, the prosperous ringtail simply put the graviton emitter on the table. Then he opened a view screen and showed the schematics.

Lom-Dag couldn't believe what he saw. His eyes blinked a little quicker than usual. Baffled, he finally said, "Is this ..."

His companion intermitted, "Yes it is!"

The engineer carefully lifted up the artefact with both hands, as if it was a sacred relic. Almost whispering he said, "How did you ..."

Rocket put a finger over his muzzle and asked, "Can I count on yer discretion?"

The tailor nodded.

"Ya hafta do it right. No army involvement. No execution."

"No, certainly no execution; it's not our technology," the blue man replied, "I'd get a medal for this."

His client ripped the device out of his fingers. "See, that's what worries me a bit. I want you to make a suit for _my purpose_.  Mine, ya understand. No Kree purpose. Ya can keep the schematics as a return. That'll make yer boss very happy."

"I work for myself."

"Yeah, I know, but ultimately they're the boss of you. Now can ya do it?"

The tailor nodded a few times. Of course he could do it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"An' another thing: don't get me wrong, but the nice gadget you've been holdin' is not the real deal. I made a replica. Pretty nifty, huh?

The engineer gave him a puzzled look.

"Don' worry, ya got the schematics of the generator and everything. Ya can work with the stub. I keep the real thing at a safe place. 'n case ya get mugged and lose everything. Just a precaution."

"Sure," the blue man said, "you've got it worked out very well."

"OK, now that this is all clear, I suggest we get ta doin' some designin'."

"Not right now, that would raise suspicion. Come to my place early this evening."

All was set. They worked through the night. The tailor created an alluring design based on Rocket's preferences. They worked out the proper locations to put in the sensor network. The suit was to contain a back extension for holding the emitter and the controller. The technology for the network and the computer was pretty standard; the tailor had it all in store. The special ingredient was the stolen software.

They had to work out a final detail. The intelligent raccoon asked, "What about calibration?"

"I can make a dummy of your body. I have an external generator that makes 75 G."

"Wow, 75 G? Ya think the equipment can hold that?"

"Easily," the friendly Kree replied.

"So ya can do that here?"

"I've got a shed in my backyard, to do preliminary testing on the equipment I develop."

That was even better than his client expected. He was afraid that he had to calibrate the suit manually. Or use it un-calibrated. That was dangerous. The wearer of the suit can be exposed to external G forces. The protective system has to generate counter forces to neutralise the external forces. However, the counter forces need to be properly aligned. If not, differential forces arise. These are more commonly known as _shear forces_. These differential forces can be large enough to snap bones and cause considerable damage to organs. That's why the tailor needed to test it on a dummy first, not on a vulnerable real person.

Now they had discussed everything they needed. The product was expected to be ready in a week. Rocket, the future _Procyon_ superhero, laid low for that period.

* * *

A week later, in the evening, the excited raccoon knocked on the tailor's door. The man quickly opened and let him in.

With pride, he showed the orange-brown suit made of artificial leather, composed of a pair of trousers and a jacket. Rocket had brought the real generator and the tailor put it in place. The ring-tailed mammal looked at the suit and was happy about the result.

Before Rocket changed clothes, he emptied his pockets to put stuff he was carrying into his new pants. He had made a habit of this whenever he changed garments, to not accidentally leave his necessities behind in case he had to run for whatever cause. Units, keys, his gun. And a silly piece of wood. He slipped into the trousers, put in his things and tried on the jacket.

Then he noticed something funny. The jacket contained a number of blunt pins that poked into his shoulder blades, his spine and a rib adjacent to his spine. He pulled the jacket off and looked inside. There he saw five high-speed connexion plugs that weren't according to specs. He was about to ask the engineer what the hell this was for and then he passed out.

* * *

When he recovered, he found himself in what looked like a prison cell. The walls, floor and ceiling were painted in white, something he hadn't seen before in a prison. He was lying on a bed and apparently he had been drugged. It took him a while before his consciousness was fully recovered. He was dressed in a white shirt and pants. The mattress felt uncomfortable. He felt like he was lying on small rocks that pressed against his ribcage. His spine started to hurt more and more, stinging frantically when he moved.

Instinctively, grinding his teeth to stand the pain, he put an arm under his back to feel what was wrong. He discovered that the mattress was fine, but there were things connected to his back. He touched one of them and tried to move it, but an excruciating pain made him stop this immediately. Carefully, he fumbled around the objects. There were five or six of them; complex metal shapes. Most of them had a small round hole, probably for inserting a plug. His fur had been shaved off his upper backside mostly. He felt a lot of scar tissue.

Gradually, some of his strength returned. He tried to get up but couldn't manage. With a shock, a thought occurred to him. Was he paralysed? He stretched his arms alongside his body and tried to touch his upper legs. He could feel his touch to his upper legs, and with a bit of concentrating, he could flex the muscles. He wiggled his toes and bent his legs, but the pain in the middle of his back sharpened and he put his legs down again.

After a while, a blue humanoid appeared at the other side of the bars that separated the room from a hallway. Soon another one joined. Kree. He recognised the guy who joined. It was his tailor-engineer Lom-Dag. The man observed him with a neutral face. He distinguished the other blue-face too. It was his former surgeon Tor-Nal. Rocket snarled. He wasn't happy at all to see this crook again. The medic looked amused. Rocket reached for his pillow, slowly, ignoring the pain. He rolled it up so his head was supported up to have a better look at them. "What have ya done?' he asked, trying to sound angry; but his throat was dry and his voice sounded hoarse and pitiful.

The surgeon said sardonically, "Look who's coming to his senses."

The engineer didn't move a muscle. Both kept observing the patient in silence.

"What have ya done to me?" Rocket repeated, now really doing his best to be as furious and menacing as he can be, again failing to impress. He sounded like a sick, old man.

The engineer started explaining in an emotionless, matter-of-fact voice, "I expect the protective suit to work fine. I made some necessary modifications to our design."

The betrayed client sneered, "What modifications, ya piece of shit!" It still didn't sound like his old self. Too much pain.

The engineer continued strangely unmoved and responded as if someone simply had taken an interest in his work, "The suit wouldn't be as effective if I had followed our original specs. The sensor network would be in the jacket, which seems to be a design flaw to me. Therefore I asked my friend here" - he pointed to the surgeon, who hadn't stopped smiling for a single moment - "to insert the sensor nodes into your body. That way you'll have a much more stable and accurate field indication. You'll be able to withstand forces that are ten times higher."

Then he added, "Of course, this has to be put to the test before we can make precise predictions."

Rocket, boiling with anger inside, wrestling to vocalise his indignation properly, called out, "I didn't ask for this!" His voice rose on the word 'ask'. Did he sound ... disappointed?

Raging internally, _What kind of a fucking deal is this? How could his tailor have got him so wrong? And why the involvement of this foul surgeon?_

The doctor said, bemused, "Well, my little friend, you don't seem to realise the predicament you're in. This is no longer a business situation. Forces well beyond your grasp have taken an interest in your case."

"What?" Rocket asked in a mixture of surprise and pain. He felt that he needed to get his brain working. Quickly. This was all going into a wrong direction, terribly wrong. _What forces? Think, think!_

There was a moment of silence. The two men were standing there patiently; one calmly observing and the other with that damn smirk on his face. Rocket wished he could jump up and beat it off, smashing his fist through the Kree's skull until his teeth would drop out of the backside of his head.

Then he told himself, _Calm down, buddy. Ya need to be smart about this. Talk yer way out of it, whatever does the trick._

He took a breath. It hurt as if he was breathing fire. His eyes glanced over his chest, under his shirt. There were some implants on his chest too. The fucking bastards!

The conversations echoed in his head; he still was a bit drowsy from the anaesthetics. He heard the words 'put it to the test' repeating itself in his mind and got an alarming feeling. "Put what to the test, what are you up to?" he asked. _OK, that was a relevant question at least_.

A third person joined the group. It was the Kree Admiral, Bor-Nat. He said briefly, "I see that subject 89P13 has awakened. Current status?"

 _Did the surgeon's grin deepen for just a moment? He looked almost happy. What the hell was so damn good about this situation?_ Then he put on a straight face and looked briefly at the officer. He reported, "The surgery went well. The specimen is recovering. Soon we will be able to test the system."

"Excellent," the officer responded, "it seems you earned this promotion." He patted his friend on the shoulder. "Welcome to our team." He shook his hand and left. The engineer followed the admiral.

The doctor stood there for a few moments, then spoke to Rocket in a sarcastically thankful voice, "First I worried about the money, I must admit. How little of me. Then it occurred to me that you could be of far greater use to me. And to the glory of the Kree Empire. Giving me this outstanding career opportunity.  
You did so well, my little friend. Followed my plan to every detail. I'd be almost grateful, if you weren't such an inferior piece of vermin."  
He continued, "Yet a very useful piece of vermin. You are going to enrich us in ways you would never have dreamed of. Not in your worst nightmares. Now, I suggest you have a good sleep."

He walked away leisurely.

Rocket's brain went in overdrive. Thousands of thoughts and fears crossing his mind. _He began to suspect that this prison wouldn't allow for the cunning escape that was his trademark. And what did this asshole babble about? His plan? How could that be? Had he been tricked all this time? Who was in on the plot?_

 _The more he thought about it, the more he realised how this whole world, this whole universe, had been working against him. He felt defeated, dreadfully powerless. Even more lost and lonely then when he had left Halfworld. Confused he had been, not knowing why he had been expelled from his beloved home world. Nevertheless, he made something of himself. He felt lonely as lonely can be, but at least nobody meddled with his life. He developed a new personality, a disposition with a brashness that got him through many hardships. Now he even felt abandoned by his new self, betrayed by his eagerness and overconfidence._

His eyelids slowly dropped. He was tired, so tired. Tears welled up in his eyes, dropping slowly over his cheeks. He had no power left to fight his self-pity. His jaws opened slowly as he wailed in silence, sinking into the black, bottomless pit of a dreamless sleep.


	5. The Nurse

**The Nurse**

When Rocket woke up the next day, a Kree woman was filling a tub on a large serving trolley. From behind, he could see that she wore an operation mask and gloves.

Whatever she was preparing to do, the raccoon had no interest in taking part in it. Without making any noise, the patient tried to shift his body. The stinging pain was still there but he could at least move to some extent. He had to escape, now. He looked at the bars and the hallway behind it. The barred door was connected to a simple secure locking mechanism. Even without tools, the escape artist could disassemble and hotwire the thing by using his claws.

He clenched his teeth to avoid making a noise, slowly rolled on his side, then on his belly, to the edge of the bed. There was a device around his right wrist he hadn't seen before. A thick wide blue ring with connection holes in it. He ignored the device. Holding on to the mattress, he let his legs drop to the floor, shutting out the pain. Then the injured ringtail let go of the mattress, dropped himself to the ground, supported his weight with his hands and feet, and walked to the door stealthily, four-footed.

The escapist quickly looked around to see if the Kree woman, who was a nurse he figured, had noticed anything. She was standing at the trolley with her back to him. The cautious raccoon looked around for something he could club her with if she would try to grab him. The room was mostly empty. There was the bed, the trolley with nursing equipment and beside that a shelf high on the wall opposing the bed, running from the back to the front of the cell. On the shelf, close to the bars, a big green cylindrical shape standing on its flat side. Nothing suitable and reachable he could use.

The prisoner sneaked to the security device, a small white box that was attached to the wall. According to his knowledge, the box was held together by eight snapping mechanisms, four on this side, four on the other. By pushing a nail between the box and its back plate, he could make one of the tiny clamps on the inside unsnap.

By the time he unsnapped the second connection, resulting in a barely audible click, the nurse turned around and saw him. Rocket saw her too and immediately prepared himself to jump at her, if that would be possible in his current physical condition, or scratch and bite her if she would be stupid enough to approach and try to catch him.

Neither happened. The nurse didn't even seem alarmed. She just pulled a small device out of her pocket and pressed a button.

Next thing, Rocket was in the tub. The nurse had been rubbing a stinging, awfully smelling red goo all over his body and was brushing him with some vigour. The tube was filled with grey, black and white hair. His fur! He tried to move and to resist but felt no power in his muscles. He had been sedated. _How? He remembered the device in the nurse's pocket. Could she switch him off by remote? What kind of diabolic technology would do that? Could it be the implants? No, that didn't make any sense. The blue ring! Probably contained a sedation suppository and a needle sticking into a vein. Damn! That thing needed to be removed first._

The nurse noticed that he was conscious. Rocket could only see the upper half of her face; she probably looked young and beautiful. With a voice that wasn't pleasant at all, she commanded, "Do not try any more ill-conceived actions like that. We know your criminal history. Every time you make our work more difficult, we will add another constraint."

The sentient animal bit his teeth and tried to curse but his muscles were numb. He muttered, "Ya f ...," he breathed in and out, "ya ff ...," again, "ya b ... b ..."

"Rudeness will not help you," the nurse lashed out.

She continued to brush him. The proud Earth mammal felt appalled, angry and very unhappy. _How dare they?! How dare they remove his fur!_ Now the nurse was stripping his tail.

"No, no!" he protested. _Not the tail._ _This is my body!_ _The nerve to treat me like this, like they own me!_ He focussed on all his muscles, all his power, to get his body control back. The sedative burned in his veins. He felt his body tensing a bit but was unable to move a muscle.

The nurse was done. The tub emptied through a hose connected to the wall, then filled again. She took a wet cloth to rinse him and to remove remaining hairs. She lifted him and rubbed him with a towel until he was dry. He was laid back into the bed, but this time without clothing. There he lied, naked as he had never been and looking like an oversized rat. His scrotum showing, his penis shaft and his anus, for everyone to see. He felt ashamed, but more than that: humiliated, and was raging with anger inside. All he could do was make the tiniest movements, hoping he could wiggle out of the bed if he had a few hours.

* * *

Unfortunately, he didn't have a few hours. Soon, the nurse came into the room again with another service trolley. On top of it a small mattress covered in plastic, surrounded by bars that would prevent a half-sized person from falling off. They prevented him from falling off, as he was taken by the nurse and put on top of the cart. She opened the barred door, wheeled the trolley through, passing a long bent corridor with windows to the outside, showing a view of Kree-Lar from an elevated position. An exciting view for tourists, but not for Rocket in his precarious position. He had the awful feeling that he was a lamb who was brought to the slaughterhouse.

At least he had kept enough of his wits to observe whatever he could notice and memorise. The code the nurse used for opening the door. He had not seen her type it but had figured it out by watching the movements of her elbow from behind. The building he was in, where it was situated in Kree-Lar. The architecture of the institute. Most likely a large conic, round construction with a top dome. The corridor led around the inside of the dome. Giving access to the rooms of the test subjects and the lab, where he was going now.

A big sliding door gave access to the laboratory. It was a formidable windowless room, containing a number of islands with exotic equipment. All around the room were tall storage closets, intermitted by gaps for wall desks with advanced computer terminals. He could see about twenty people working here on different 'projects'. All had surgery masks and wore gloves, even the operators at the terminals.

Three islands were set up as operating rooms. Force field walls, hardly visible to the naked eye, surrounded them. A stretcher stood next to the middle platform. On it a body, covered with a green sheet, a pink humanoid hand sticking out from underneath, and a lot of blood on the floor. Rocket felt sick but recovered by taking a deep breath.

She parked him next to the first surgical island. At five metres distance, a large device had been setup on a platform with a ramp. It consisted of two robust half-spherical shells with a diameter of more than two metres, with the one below facing up and the one on top, a metre above the other, facing down. The massive half-orbs were attached to four sturdy metal pillars, along which they could slide up and down, moved by a transport mechanism. The bottom shell had been sunk into the platform and probably rested on the lab floor.

Each shell contained many coils, in a number of directions, forming a grid solidly attached to the inside of the shell. More to the centre was a complex network of small metallic balls, wired in a three-dimensional grid. In the middle of the half shells, there was a round empty space of about a metre in diameter. A massive bundle of wires connected to the outside of each shell, plugged into a machine as big as a small house, next to it.

Between the two shells, the spooked test subject could see a horizontal construction that was attached to the far end of a sturdy car, at about one metre height. The assembly contained a three-dimensional wireframe in which he recognised the outline of his body shape. He got the picture where they would take him.

The nurse moved the cart with the plucked, mask-less raccoon on it towards the orb machine and stopped. She took the creature, who was still not in control of his body, and dressed him in the yellow-brown protective suit; jacket as well as trousers. She stuck his furless tail into one of his trouser pipes. Rocket felt slightly relieved that at least he had trousers on again but at the same time felt his anxiety rising by the minute.

"Will I die here?" he asked himself. The machinery looked rather lethal to him. The corpse on the stretcher he had seen while entering didn't fuel his optimism either.

She wheeled the trolley with the wireframe out of the shells. The woman put the guinea pig into the wireframe construction and strapped him with belts, so he was fixated entirely. If the sedation would wear off now, he wouldn't even be able to open his jaw.

Yan-Del, the scientist, looked at the nurse's performance with contentment. After she was finished, she joined the surgeon Tor-Nal, who was waiting at the first operating island, and started making preparations. In sight, diagonally behind the large machine, there was a desk with a terminal. An operator was seated behind it and looked at lead scientist Yan-Del, waiting for instructions.

The leader looked at the nurse and asked, "You can administer the counter-drug."

The woman took her remote and pushed a button. Immediately, Rocket felt his muscle control coming back. He started to flex his body, working against the wireframe and the belts, trying to break something. The sentient animal growled viciously while fighting against his narrow cage. To no effect. The construction was too strong and didn't budge. The trolley that held him up didn't even move. Its wheelbase was heavy, to counterbalance his weight.

"Excellent, excellent," the scientist acclaimed. "Full consciousness and full muscle control. That will give the best results."

He walked over to Rocket and looked him in the eyes. He dryly said, "You probably are aware of the effect of shear forces when you move. The more you are in motion, the more trouble the software of your suit will have to compensate. So I recommend you lie still."

Then he added sadistically - although, with a Kree scientist, you never know if sadism is intentional or just comes with the job, "Of course, you can't stop the movements of your heart and lungs. We will start with a linear force field and expect these organs to snap eventually. But don't worry. Our team of surgeons will keep you alive. Until we're done with you."

Rocket let the words come over him. He shook his head violently but to no avail. Then he breathed fast and heavily through his nose, in powerless rage. As he was wheeled in between the shells, he felt the inevitability of the situation sink in. He closed his eyes in desperation, preparing himself for the things to come. Anxiety replaced his fury. His body was shaking, fear gushed through his bloodstream. He wanted the shaking to stop but had no control over it.

Someone inserted a plug into the small back extension of his suit. The computer operator ran a few checks. Servo motors within the construction snapped to the wireframe he was hanging in and moved it to a specific position at the heart of the contraption. The shells slowly converged, moved by motors that made a frightening howling sound. The sound of impending doom. The hull finally closed with a clicking sound. Then there was silence for a moment. Only a dim blue light, shining from the back of his suit, kept the total darkness of his enclosure at bay.


	6. The First Test Run

**The First Test Run**

The experiment, the first of many to come, began.

A second operator, a woman who had been standing by, joined the first operator behind the terminal.

Yan-Del looked at the surgeon Tor-Nal and asked, "Medical status?"

The medic watched a view screen that showed an X-ray vision of Rocket and highlighted all kinds of body parts, showing a number of graphs and figures. He replied, "Body scan coming through at 100%. Health status within parameters."

Yan-Del turned to the second operator, "Suit status?"

A scheme of the suit on her view screen showed many numbers in green. The operator replied, "Functional parameters at 100%."

Then to the first operator, "Gravity field?"

Operator 1 could see that the hollow device surrounding Rocket was fully functional and reported, "Ready for check with suit off."

Yan-Del to the second operator, "Turn the suit off."

* * *

The blue light disappeared. Darkness suddenly surrounded Rocket. The orange after-image of the blue light faded on his retinas. His anxiety level rose. _They turned the suit off! That didn't make any sense. Without the shielding of his garment, the machine would smash him like a tomato. What if these devils had made a mistake and wouldn't know until they opened this coffin again?_

He tried to scream, "Mmmmmm, ..., mmmmm, ... ." No use. They probably wouldn't be able to hear him.

He felt how he got lifted upward, pressed with his torso to the wireframe. He sunk back, then was jolted to the side. Down, diagonally, at random directions it seemed. It was scary as hell, but the forces didn't exceed a couple of G's.

He figured it out, to his relief. _They probably wanted to test the equipment with the suit off, to check if their equipment was operating correctly and to set a baseline._

His conclusion proved to be right. When the blue light came back on, he let out an alleviated sigh. He wasn't dead yet.

* * *

Yan-Del made his round of status checks again and then he requested, "I want green light for linear force field."

All thumbs went up.

Operator 1 started the program. The machine Rocket was in started to run in higher gear and became noisy.

Yan-Del commanded, "Go to 10 G and then give me status."

The operator worked his interface and reported, "Linear force field in progress, rising to 10 G."

* * *

The effect on the strapped test subject was different from the first test run. He felt a gentle push from alternating directions. Like someone pressed a pillow against his body. Strangely enough, it had a calming effect on him. He knew the suit was working. He hoped the rest of the experiment would be similar to this. _Did the scientist make a joke when he told his heart would ... snap? Do scientists like that make jokes, ever?_

* * *

The 10 G test seemed to go well. Everything within parameters.

"Let's go to 40," the lead scientist ordered.

This time, Rocket felt the push and pull on his body increase. It was like someone yanked him up and down, back and forth, sideways, in all directions. It was a disturbing experience. His fear rose and his heart started beating faster.

"No," he said to himself, "I've got to stay calm."

He breathed slowly, in and out, in and out. Somebody had taught him breathing exercises a long time ago to be able to stay 'Zen' in situations like this. He didn't remember any details but it worked and made him feel more relaxed. Until he felt a nasty jolt, got angry and frustrated.

"No, no, no," he whispered to himself. "Ya can do this, ye're stronger than them."

* * *

Meanwhile in the lab, the 40 G test was done. The lead scientist got his team gathered around him. There was a short discussion. He started with the first operator, "Preliminary result of shear forces?"

"Max 4 G," the operator declared.

Then to the second operator, "Recommend calibration of suit?"

She affirmed, "Yes, we can feed in data."

"Good." He looked at his old friend, the surgeon, but treated the man as someone he had never met. He wasn't supposed to fraternise during work, and the surgeon was content with this. It meant the team members took him seriously.

"Status of specimen?"

"Within parameters," the surgeon replied. He enjoyed the staccato way of communication. Kree efficiency, very professional. The medic suppressed a smile.

"Good," the chief scientist concluded. "Calibrate and then 40 G again."

The operators proceeded. After a few minutes, they gave green light for the next run. Yan-Del ordered them to go ahead.

* * *

Rocket felt the yanking again. It was less intense this time. _Maybe this was a good sign. Maybe he could better fool himself into hoping the best._ He performed the breathing exercises with commitment. After the last bump, he was proud that he remained composed.

"They can shave me, they can shake me, but they can't break me," he said to himself and it even made him chuckle a bit.

* * *

The lead scientist asked, "Maximum shear force?"

The reply was, "1.5 G."

"Impressive," he remarked.

Then to the surgeon, "Medical, recommend max shear force?"

"10 G."

To operator 1, "Recommend max linear force?"

"200 G."

Now it was getting serious.

Operator 1 prepared the program for the test run. After 10 seconds, he reported, "Ready."

The leader commanded, "Go!"

* * *

The first thing Rocket noticed was the buzzing sound the coils in the shells made. His heart jumped in fear.

"Oh no," he thought, "this is it!" Then he reminded himself to stay calm and started breathing as regularly as he could.

But all hell broke loose. He was smashed and tossed violently against the wireframe. Virtual horses were dropped onto his body, punching out all the air, hurting him in familiar and unfamiliar places. He felt a heavy stomp to his head, smashing his jaw into the wireframe. Was it broken or just severely bruised? His head hurt and he became dizzy while the thumping and bashing continued. His heart stopped beating for a few moments, started pumping again and then skipped a number of beats for the second time.

A feeling of nausea overtook him suddenly, making him vomit - through his teeth. He couldn't empty his mouth due to his constraints. He tried to swallow his sick again but it gushed back out as he kept getting beaten. It flowed into his lungs and made him cough heavily. He was suffocating. He panicked.

The turmoil stopped. He coughed, coughed without end. He was drowning in a lake of acid and felt a deadly despair. His stomach contents were burning its way through his sensitive lung tissue, hurting viciously.

* * *

Outside, Tor-Nal looked at his monitors and remarked, "Specimen has breathing problems."

The lead scientist asked, "Probable cause?"

Tor-Nal replied, "Reflux from digestive into respiratory system."

"Prognosis?" the scientist asked.

Tor-Nal answered, "Recommend inspection."

Yan-Del frowned. This wasn't going as planned. In an annoyed voice, he commanded the first operator to open the system up.

The shells opened and the frantically coughing mammal was exposed. The trolley with the wireframe was detached from the machine and rolled outward. The nurse quickly unstrapped the test subject. The struggling animal turned itself over on its belly, throwing out the contents of its guts that had been trapped in its muzzle. It continued to vomit and coughed up blood. The coughs made nasty screeching sounds.

The nurse undressed the test subject, grabbed it and strapped it onto a stretcher, which she wheeled towards the first operating island. The surgeon inserted a tube into its throat and sucked most of the burning substance out of its lungs. He lowered a medical molecular teleportation device over the shaking body, asked the nurse to sedate the subject so it would be motionless, did some programming and let the apparatus further clean out its lungs. He instructed the machine to make tissue repairs after that.

During the undressing of the mammal, the nurse inspected its trousers and discovered that more substances had been leaking. Faeces and urine stained the floor under the wireframe cart.

The lead scientist had been observing all this and reprimanded the surgeon, "Medical, this is a mess!" He sternly asked, "Why hasn't the specimen been fitted with tubes?"

Tor-Nal realised that he had made a serious mistake. Had the critter been prepped to prevent leakage, they would have been able to finish the linear experiment to the end.

"I sincerely apologise," he humbly replied. "I will undo the damage and propose measures to get back on schedule."

"That's the least I expect of you," Yan-Del reprimanded. He marched off and left the lab.

The doctor looked in anger at his nurse but realised that he should have given her the right orders, so he turned his gaze away and looked down. The nurse didn't flinch. She hadn't got the job at this prestigious institution for nothing; her track record was spotless.

Tor-Nal gave her instructions, "Clean up the mess. Check with the operator if any leakage has dropped into the machine and get a cleaning specialist to rinse it. Get the suit cleaned." Then he took a breath and exclaimed angrily, "And tube the damn thing!"

* * *

Rocket wasn't aware of this. He lay on the operating table in an artificial sleep. That was a good thing. He breathed with a rasping sound. The pain in his lungs would make him feel very miserable if he were awake. No bones had been broken yet but he had a lot of bruises, probably some joint dislocations and a nasty concussion.

* * *

However, the scientists' view was that such 'minor damage' should not have been a cause for interrupting the first test. Tor-Nal was thinking feverishly how he could speed up the medical side of the process to be able to compensate his mistake. He looked at the sleeping Earth mammal with hate in his eyes. Yet, he was rational enough to know that this wasn't the fault of that grey hairless rat, so he'd better put his brains to work and come up with something brilliant.


	7. Changing the Programme

**Changing the Programme**

* * *

 **Notes:**

 ** _\- Warning: chapter contains strong language -_**

* * *

Tor-Nal did a lot of thinking that evening. His mood improved when he was able to conceive a few ideas. He did some research, made a couple of reports and went to sleep.

Early in the morning on the next day, the 89P13 test team had a meeting. The lead scientist, the doctor, the nurse and the two operators were present.

The leader turned his head towards the surgeon to ask him a question. He looked at him with a stern expression and only needed one word, "And?"

Tor-Nal had been practicing for this meeting, "I have worked out some concepts that can turn this misfortune into an advantage."

Yan-Del, his boss, frowned.

His new employee continued, "We can stretch the lifetime of the specimen to allow for extended testing." He paused and looked at the chairman with a quick glance. So far, so good. "It turns out that the leakage of the test subject was a side effect of minor brain damage. If we would have continued the linear test, his brain may have been damaged beyond repair."

The lead scientist frowned again. _Why such a long explanation? Where was this going?_

The surgeon suggested, "I propose we skip the rest of the linear test."

This caused mild confusion.

Operator 1 muttered, "I don't understand." Yan-Del gave the employee a quick, reproving look. It wasn't his turn to speak. The operator looked down in shame.

The doctor, who was gambling that the surprise effect of his findings would turn the situation over, added confidently, "It would kill the mammal. He's no use to us brain-dead."

OK, that was a good point. Why didn't anyone think of this before?

His superior didn't get his position by taking the blame for something. "Why didn't you think about this before?"

In a humble voice, the surgeon brought out, "My sincere apologies. I should have come up with this during the test design." Then, recovering, "Fortunately, the little accident we had yesterday enables us to do some redesigns to maximise the profit we can extract from the specimen."

Yan-Del fulminated, "Fortunately? Does this operation depend on luck?!"

Everybody was deadly silent. He blamed his friend, the doctor. However, in the back of his head he was well aware that he was personally responsible for this project. His superiors were not nearly as forgiving as he was.

The leader let the silence sink in for a few seconds. Then he addressed Tor-Nal with a calm voice, "Very well. A mistake has been made. Let's make the best of it. What would you propose to stretch its life?" Rising his voice, "And don't tell me we have to drop another test run!"

Tor-Nal felt slightly intimidated by his friend but was aware of the rules of the game. He took a humble posture. He selected his first report and explained, while the other members could see a copy of the report pop up on their personal view screens, "The mammal has a vulnerable nervous system. I propose to exempt that organ from full force until test run 4. Exposing his brain and spine to 150 G would be sufficient for run 2 and 3. Furthermore, the creature's heart, lungs and main arteries may tear and cause another premature end. Therefore, I suggest we modify the force field build-up to go max on the disposable organs previously to a full hit on the circulatory system. This on a per test run basis."

The lead scientist was thinking for a moment. Then he nodded almost unnoticeably and affirmed, "That makes sense." He looked at operator 1 and asked, "How much time to reprogram?"

Operator 1 quickly made an estimate, "I need four hours."

"Good," the boss said.

The surgeon suppressed a relieved breath and then boldly went to the next step of his plan, "Sir, if I may propose an additional improvement."

Yan-Del looked at him in surprise. _Was this guy getting overzealous?_ Then he thought to himself, _Nothing as good for ambition than beating up your staff a little._

He nodded. The MD elaborated, "We can maximise usage of the bone structure. I have used an experimental technique," he presented his second report, "that can accelerate bone healing. It involves an organic compound with a programmable shape memory function."

The lead scientist took a quick glance at the material, nodded and said, "This is useful. But we have to test it. Apply it pre-test to part of the bone structure. Another part post-test and the rest untreated as reference."

The surgeon simply replied, "Consider it done. We can prep 89P13 today. Tomorrow it will be ready for run 2."

The chairman closed the meeting.

The surgeon gave instructions to the nurse. She had fed the subject intravenously. They decided that it could use a little force-feeding; but not too much, as it was to be operated later that day. They also decided that it should be shackled. Better safe then sorry.

* * *

When Rocket woke up that day, he was back in the white holding cell. He was tied to the bed with shackles and short chains, both to his wrists and to his feet. He had been lying on his back the whole time. It was painful. His lungs felt strange but he was relieved that he could breathe normally. Yesterday, it felt like he almost died.

He tried to roll on his side. To his frustration, the chains were just too short to allow him to lie comfortably. Then he started to gag. Something was stuck in his food pipe and it irritated him. He tried to push it out by tensing his stomach but the object didn't move.

He noticed another thing. An object had been stuck into his anus as well and something had been pushed through his penis, his urethra. It was discomforting. He felt humiliated and abused. For a moment, tears came to his eyes; but then he clenched his teeth and took heart. He moved to lie on his back again and tried to lift his head to have a look. _What was going on down there?_

A hose came out of his butt and one out of his penis shaft. The hoses ran off the end of the bed. _He figured this is how he could shit and piss now. They probably didn't even trust him to do that by himself, the normal way_. Then he thought ' _Screw it_ ' and gave his bowels and bladder a good squeeze. _Yep, the stuff went down the hoses and he felt better._ Still, the damn tube in his throat annoyed him greatly. He gagged again a few times and then stopped because the thing didn't move.

He had to get used to it for the time being somehow, like so many things in this hellhole. Again, he fought the tears in his eyes.

On the wall to his left, there was a water dispenser with a nozzle. It pissed him off that he had to drink like a fucking rodent in a cage. Nevertheless, he had to quench his thirst from time to time.

After an hour, a very dull hour for the prisoner, the nurse entered. Rocket came back to life and sneered scornfully, "Hi there, bitch! I see you've been busy!"

The nurse didn't even look at him, but started to fill the tub.

"Bath time again, huh?" He said sardonically, "Ya know, I'm a raccoon. Raccoons love water! But I bet ya never heard of a raccoon in yer life!"

Then he shouted furiously, "Never in yer life, ya fuckin' Kree whore, in this fuckin' shithole galaxy ya live in!"

Raging with anger, "Ya don't know who I am, ya don't know who you're messin' with!" He paused. "Ya tied me up, huh? Tied me up good, ya sadistic Kree cunt! Ya better keep me chained! 'Coz if I'm breakin' loose, I will bite yer head off and skull fuck ya!"

His voice was roaring loud. It felt to him as if he had made the entire building shake and his own ears beep. He had thrown out all the boiling anger and frustration he had been building up the last days.

Then it was silent. The nurse had not moved a muscle in response. He only could see her backside, being busy with the tub and another device. She walked to the shelf on the wall and dropped something into the container on top of it.

More silence followed. The echoes of his voice rumbled within his head, but outside there was a very loud silence.

Thoughts came into Rocket's mind. _How many 'specimen' must there have been in all those cells, treated callously? Some begging to live and some begging to die? How many would the nurse have seen, shouting, in agony, bleeding out, scared, numb? Did it even mean something to her?_

 _How could anybody do a job like that?_

 _Everybody knew that the Kree thought of themselves to be a master-species. Perfecting themselves. Perfecting themselves ... into what? Brainwashed idiots? Were they born with contempt for other species? Did they learn in kindergarten? How can they do business with other species, exchange ideas, know that they are sentient and still ignore them? Worse, crush them under their soles as if they were bugs._

He had visited Kree-Lar many times, bought stuff, took stuff, sold stuff - had conversations with Kree. He knew the rumours about the dubious experimentations in the science labs. The Kree were not even doing much of an attempt to hide it. All this time, he never gave it much thought. He just didn't care. _It's a cruel universe; everyone has to fend for themselves, especially if you have no family or anyone to back you._

 _Had he ever cared about anything? Was this how the universe got rid of ... vermin? Cold-hearted, self-centred buggers like him?_

He was confused about these thoughts. This was different from his usual way of thinking since he was forced to start a solitary life.

 _Had he been a caring person?_

A long time ago, he cared a lot about Lylla, the beautiful otter girl he grew up with on Halfworld. He was only able to retain vague memories of her, as if someone had ripped her out of his head. He thought about her sometimes. In moments like this, when he needed the fading echoes of her smile to stay alive. _To remember who he had been ... so long ago. Someone who was loved. Someone who cared._

Then the nurse came to him. He became aware of the pipe in his throat again, all his pains and annoyances; the hate he felt when he looked at her.

"Can ya pull this damn pipe outta my throat?" he asked her, knowing that she wouldn't care. "I really don't need it."

However, the nurse had a use for it. She stuck neural inhibitors to the left and the right side of his face. His jaw dropped loose. She had a device with a long hose sticking out and was trying to connect it to the tube in his throat. The unwilling sentient animal moved his head to and fro franticly in defence and didn't let her near his muzzle.

In response, she just stuck two more inhibitors to his neck. His neck muscles stopped working and his head dropped to one side. She opened his jaw wide and connected the tube to the internal pipe. Then she activated the little machine. It pumped a flow of grey mash through his oesophagus. He felt it slide into his stomach and fill him up, a disgusting experience.

She switched the device off and pulled out the hose. The pipe in his throat made a clicking sound, an automatic closing mechanism that let stuff go in but prevented it from flowing out.

Rocket was furious. _How many more humiliations did he have to suffer, what would these guys think of next?_ He wanted to bark something at her in anger, but his paralysed jaw wouldn't let him speak.

Before he knew it, she had pushed the button on the control again. He woke up in the tub, just as last time, being separated from the tiny fluffy hairs that had been growing back since yesterday.

* * *

After the specimen had been cleaned, she took it out, dried it, put it on the bed and cuffed it. She connected the two hoses to its lower body, into the two tubes that had been fitted inside its private area. The tubes opened automatically when a hose was inserted and locked on. She gave the animal a counter-drug. All with a stone face. Then she left.

* * *

Rocket didn't even care to insult her on her way out. He just hoped she would die and he would never see her again.


	8. No Anaesthetics

**No Anaesthetics**

The nurse wheeled Rocket into the laboratory again, that night.

He was in an awfully depressed mood. His thoughts had been running in circles all day long. _He had imagined what would have happened if he had bitten off his tongue, bleeding out until he was dead._ _That should have taught them! Was there hidden detection equipment in his cell and would they have stopped him? Probably_.

He didn't really want to die. He merely kept hoping for that one chance for escaping. One single chance, one chance in a million. Just to make the nightmare stop; that was all he asked for.

She moved him to an operating platform. The nurse sedated the patient, strapped him to the operating table and then gave him a counter-drug. He was surprised to find himself awake on the platform, while nothing seemed to have happened yet. He looked around.

He saw a device that consisted of half a cylinder, about 50 cm long and 10 cm in diameter. The cylinder, round side up, was supported by a series of claw-shaped half arcs. Stuck through the midsection of each arc, an egg-like metal object. On top of the cylinder, sunk into it, an irregular round box.

The doctor lowered another medical device. By the looks of it, a force field generator. Rocket didn't like this at all.

He asked, "What are ya gonna do now?"

The Kree didn't look away from his work and kept making preparations.

"Yeah, right," the test subject objected scornfully, "just pretend I'm not here. Asshole!"

He was really depressed.

The nurse asked the doctor, "Shall I anaesthetise it now?"

The surgeon replied, "No, that would be a waste of resources. I can keep it perfectly motionless with the force field."

"What?" ' _It_ ' cried out, "Ye're gonna operate on me without sedation? Come on, stop that sadistic crap, will ya?"

Then he felt fear. "No, really, I'm serious. Don't do that! What kind of a doctor are ya, are ya insane?

No response.

"Please, please don't do this to me. I beg you, don't. Bring me under!"

He was totally ignored.

He screamed, "Don't do it! After all you've done to me already! Isn't that enough? Ya want more revenge, huh? Revenge for what else? What kind of sick bastard are ya?"

Silence again.

Then he yelled, "Ya better kill me right now! Ya hear me! If I'm ever gettin' out, I'm gonna skin you alive!"

* * *

The surgeon chose not to hear. He was in 'Kree scientist mode', being efficient. Giving the noisy critter its way wouldn't serve any purpose. Not that he considered it or even listened to the complaints. That wasn't part of the test parameters. Where would Kree science be if they engaged in such meaningless conversations?

The doctor had programmed the medical force field generator and used it to immobilise the patient completely. The only muscle in its body that still moved was the heart. The nurse put a tube into its lungs to provide them with oxygen. The surgeon put on enhanced vision goggles and picked up an instrument that looked like a scalpel without a blade. Nevertheless, it was a scalpel, connected to a telescopic arm to support controlled motion. He started with the guinea pig's left underarm. He made a few movements, very precise. He continued the cut to its upper arm. A thin, red line appeared on the grey skin of the body appendage.

The genetically engineered animal could not even blink its eyes. The nurse put salve in them to keep them from dehydrating. She also put a clip on its tongue and let it hang out of its muzzle.

Tor-Nal used the force field to separate the skin. He cut through some more tissues until he had freed the bones of the underarm, the elbow joint and the bone of the upper arm.

The doctor moved the machine with the claws over his victim's arm. Under the long, half-cylindrical shape, a nozzle extruded a flat string made of a flexible, greenish-brown substance. The string got longer and longer, almost magically moved through the air, coiling around the upper arm bone. Then it covered the elbow and the ulna, forming a thin layer. After this was done, the specialist cut the string.

He activated a follow-up program of the claw machine. The substance attached itself to the bones and changed into a perforated gauze. At microscopic scale, needle-like filaments of the substance pierced the bone structure all the way to the marrow.

* * *

Rocket could feel every incision. Some of them he hardly felt but most created a plethora of stinging, burning, searing and biting pains. His heartbeat exploded. The pain screamed in his head, filling it with images of insane violence. Time passed in slow motion, each second more dreadful than the previous. He watched the diabolic surgeon from the corner of his eyes. Every one of the Kree's movements made his mind jitter in anticipation. His anxiety spiralled out of control, which made him panic all the more. It was utterly unbearable.

Then it got worse. Suddenly it felt like a thousand blunt saws were grinding his arm bones to pieces.

* * *

The nurse warned the doctor, "Heartbeat rate is exceeding parameter limit."

The surgeon, who was concentrating on his job, felt a bit distracted by this message. He looked at the monitor and muttered, "Hmm. Such a weak nervous system. The current pain levels seem to have caused some kind of panic response. I need a lower blood pressure anyway. Apply small dosages of sedation until the heart rate reaches a normal level."

She did. Rocket's pupils widened. He lost consciousness. The nurse closed his eyes.

* * *

Muscles, tendons and other tissues that were moved were put back in place by the medic. What had been cut was mended until the entire arm was closed up again.

More bones were selected randomly for the same processing: a clavicle, some neck bones, a section of the pelvis. Half an hour later, he was done. He moved a regeneration unit over the fruit of his creation. In a few hours, the wounds should be repaired. The bone sustaining substance had formed nicely. Tomorrow's test promised to be interesting.


	9. To Be Torn Apart and Put Back Together

**To Be Torn Apart and Put Back Together**

As the nurse came into Rocket's cell that morning to perform her daily routines, the mutilated mammal woke up from a terrible nightmare. Instinctively, he moved to the upper end of the bed. Growling and getting as far away from her as possible. He fought the chains that held him back, twisting his body in vigorous motion.

His animal mind was wide-awake whereas his consciousness was numbed by terror.

The rattling and shaking of his chains came to a halt. He lay still, watching the nurse with feverish eyes, ready to bolt.

Demons with roaring voices chased him through a world of razorblades. The light from the sun reflected on the blades. Everything became white. The bars of the room were spinning around. He was chained and someone yanked at his arms and legs. A large demon stood in the middle of the room, a terribly dangerous person.

He breathed like a steam engine. The light stopped shimmering. Now the razorblades faded into the walls. The noise echoed away. The white blur came into focus and materialised into a prison cell. He could hear a vaguely familiar splashing sound. The demon in the middle of the room turned out to be the nurse.

Panting heavily, he noticed how he was lying on the bed in a contorted position while the chains cut into his flesh.

He slowly regained awareness of his current situation: he was a prisoner in a torture hole. _No, no, no, this can't be true, this must be a dream_. The more reality sank in, the sicker he felt. His fighting instinct had left him.

His tenseness flowed out of his body to an extent that he was feeling limp. He was a mere piece of raccoon meat that sunk into the mattress. A feeling of despair and fright overtook him, running through his veins like liquid ice. He swallowed with some difficulty, because of the tube in his throat.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, it would all go away. The mattress felt soft. His back stung. The tubes irritated his body. It felt like it was happening to someone else.

The nurse moved around and performed her routine.

An emotion overtook him that he never felt before. It rose to the surface and wanted to get out urgently, as a last salvation attempt. He opened his eyes again. Slowly, as if he didn't care to see. He sighed and spoke with a weak voice, "Nurse?"

There was no response. A moment of silence followed.

"Nurse? I ... I don't know yer name."

He continued in a pitiful but calm voice. "Listen," he said and swallowed, "this is all too much for me. I can't handle anymore of this." He swallowed again. "Please, ya got to _help_ me." It sounded more urgent, desperate even.

She didn't seem to hear any of this.

"Please, I know ya can hear me. The pain ... yesterday ... it was unbearable. Ya have no _idea_." His voice went up and slipped over the word 'idea'. It was a pathetic display. He took a breath. "Can't ya ... can't ya just sedate me if it happens again? Just push the button? Like, by accident?"

This was an S.O.S.; he had to do it. He grasped for more words to say but couldn't find any. These were people of few words. If she wouldn't get it, she wouldn't get it. No need for more self-humiliation.

Yet, he was glad this was off his chest. A strange relaxation overtook him. His mind felt like his body: draped on the bed like a wet towel.

He started to shake. _Was it so cold in here? Freezing almost._ Tears started dripping from his eyes; first one eye, then the other one. The sensation of the hot wet drops rolling over his bald face was weird. He didn't feel like he wanted to cry. But the drops just kept coming, as silent witnesses of his misery. There was no point anymore to hold them in. There was no point anymore to anything. Whatever was to come, would come anyway.

 _He wondered if Kree have tear ducts. Could they cry?_

Next thing he was in the tub again. He couldn't even remember what happened in between. The actions the nurse performed were a perfect copy of the day before.

 _How many people had gone through the same emotional stages? Finally begging for mercy with full knowledge that it wouldn't change a thing?_

His eyes wandered through the room, in avoidance of her face. _No matter how pretty she may look, he couldn't imagine a more revolting monster._

He glanced over the green container on the shelf. There was a small, brownish thing on top of it. He hadn't seen it before.

* * *

That evening, he was wheeled to the lab again. The 89P13 team seemed to be moderately excited. One of the operators had reprogrammed the test runs. The boss looked content. Rocket could vaguely remember that these Kree had a disagreement last time. They seemed to have worked it out. _Good for them._

The intelligent animal knew enough about engineering to guess what he could expect this evening. _He knew this was test run two. A non-linear force field was a tough bitch. It meant being beaten up in a lot of places at the same time. Probably meant his skull would crack and his heart would be ripped apart._

There was talk of a 'three' and a 'four'. _It didn't make much sense. Would they continue testing on his dead body? Nothing surprised him by now_. There was some medical talk from that beastly surgeon, his former business partner, mentioning various body functions. _Maybe he should listen to it to catch up information but he just pushed it out of his mind. Everything was so loathsome; loathsome and pointless._

He found himself inside the round coffin again, lit by the dim blue light of his suit. It felt like taking off in a plane for the first time. He felt how he sweated. He didn't even know he could sweat. His heart pounced. _He decided that this time, he just was going to clench his teeth and let everything happen. No more breathing exercises or misplaced optimism. He hoped that he would be punched out for good and would die a quick death._

The noises started, buzzing and rumbling. He felt the kind of gentle tugs and pushes that he experienced at the start-up of test round one but knew that it would get worse.

A slight stomping to his stomach, to his back - making his spine ache, to other random locations. Virtual things pulling at his skin, pushing from inside out, stepping on his toes, whatever could be hurt.

Then there was a pause. _He hated these pauses. He wished they would just run that infernal thing to the end in one go. Up to now, he hadn't suffered serious injuries in the machine, but expected they would come._

The next round was a nasty beating. _He enjoyed bar fights, but not with giants ten times his size._ His ribs were bruised, his liver punched, a leg was twisted. He felt something cut through his abdomen. _It was impossible to guess where the next invisible blow would come from. He tasted blood; probably his nose was bleeding._

As the abuse continued, his life processed in flashbacks before his eyes. _He thought of Halfworld._ The sparse memories that he could retain made him feel warm and fuzzy in the few moments when he could detach himself from his physical misery. _Why did he remember so little? It had been puzzling him for a long time after he left._

He had learned to ignore his past while he was building his criminal career. At first, stealing was a necessity to survive. He hated to hurt people and to take their belongings. It was against everything he had learned as a ranger. Later, it felt satisfying to rob those who had a lot and weren't willing to share. Later still, when the world treated him more and more as an outcast, he took pride in his skills and the rep he got among notorious thugs. It made him feel wanted again. Unfortunately, wanted by the police forces too. He could draw pictures of all the jails he had been in.

The hellish machine started to howl as loud as never before. Rocket clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. "Goodbye, world," he said to himself.

The ordeal he was exposed to at this point was hard to put in words. Giant gear wheels rolled over his torso. His kidneys exploded. Bones snapped almost rhythmically. A snapped bone snapped again. And again. And then shifted forcefully to pierce another bone. He felt hot stuff flowing up his throat but the pipe held everything back. He lost sight in one eye. Then he felt how an arm made a 180 degree twist.

Someone screamed,

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

The scream went on, seemingly forever. It bounced across the demonic shells and came at him from a thousand directions.

It was _he_ who was doing the screaming. But he wasn't aware of that anymore, as he passed out after a few very long moments.

* * *

"Status," someone said in the world outside.

"Blood loss acceptable. Nervous system within parameters."

Yan-Del looked satisfied. He demanded, "Calibration?"

Operator 2 confirmed.

"Go ahead," the lead scientist ordered.

Rocket's uncontrolled body was tossed through his cage again. Although the suit did a better job with these upgraded settings, the broken pieces of his body smashed against each other in a sickening way. If he would wake up, he would pass out right again. It would be utterly unbearable.

In the next status round, the doctor reported that the specimen had lost a lot of blood and that making repairs would be prudent.

The leader first made a few checks. "Max G-force?"

"400"

"Max shear force?"

"Calculating ... 5 more seconds. 21 before calibration, 12 after."

"Excellent," the scientist complimented. "Enough for today. Medic: fix it; I want the subject to be ready for test run 3 within three days."

"Confirmed," the doctor replied.

The acceleration device was opened quickly. A bloodshot mess was wheeled out by the nurse, who worked at high speed. The entire body was twisted and fractured, even within the constraints of the cage. Oddly the suit, soaked in every type of fluid a mammal's body contains, didn't show a crack.

The severely molested creature was raced to the medical island, unwrapped and levitated onto the operating table by a force field. The doctor and the nurse had two additional assistants. The health monitor was showing red signs all over the place and the automatic triage algorithm compiled a list of priorities and even higher priorities.

The team worked for hours. The thorax and the abdominal region had been ripped open by the machine. The organs, some of which were torn into more than two pieces and had moved to odd locations, were put together again by the medics. All parts had to be cleaned from debris and sticky substances before they could be mended.

The circulatory system was a special problem. One assistant worked exclusively on the restoration of blood transport, using an artificial oxygenation system to prevent tissue death while he was repairing the vessels.

The test subject's skull had suffered many fractures but was intact. The brains were cooled to diminish the swellings. The jugular arteries were connected to an independent heart-lung machine, to keep the brain from dying from lack of oxygen while the torn heart wasn't operational yet. Fixing the heart was the next thing on the priority list.

There were about a 100 bone fractures. Some fragments had ended up at places where they didn't belong in the red, fleshy mess. The second assistant had a full time job to relocate missing parts. Some of them she picked out of the suit.

Very gradually, a resemblance to the body they started with before the experiment, began to appear.

Tor-Nal used the device with the claws to make the shape compound shift broken bones back into form and hold them firmly into place while they needed to heal. He selected a few additional bones to envelop with the special substance, as his boss had requested. This looked a lot like trauma surgery, but it wasn't. It was a scientific experiment.

After ten hours of operation, 89P13 was back in one piece. The medical team was tired but satisfied. There was a lot of scar tissue on the skin and the inside, but such cosmetic concerns were no priority. The idea was to continue tomorrow for the fine touch so that the subject was in a good state again in three days. Close enough to its original state to yield comparable test results.


	10. The Last Night

**The Last Night**

Rocket had been left on the operating island, which was now functioning as an intensive care unit. The nurse and an assistant took shifts.

This time, the patient was kept under sedation for the recovery process. It was necessary to keep the brain in a reduced state of activity to prevent damage while the swelling hadn't set yet. They wanted to keep the critter as motionless as possible to ensure a fast healing process.

A programmable semi-autonomic medical device repaired damage at cellular and micro tissue level. It simulated new cell growth and removed scars by rearranging cells. An intravenous feed supplied nutrients to give the ruptured, mended and almost completely cleaned out intestinal tract a rest. The accelerated restoration process required a constant stream of supplements.

Meanwhile, the test team had an early morning meeting. The doctor reported about the medical situation, the operators about the suit calibration and the force field program.

Everyone had forgotten about the incident on the first day. They had a tiny generator that could reduce the lethal impact of a 400 G nonlinear force field to a lousy 12 G. A follow-up suit was to be developed for Kree soldiers to wear. 12 G can cause quite some damage, but they would persevere.

Two more test programs had to be run. Number 3 was about micro damage, incursions from a few cm to a few micrometres. Experiment 4 would test impacts of atomic particles and high-energy photons. In this last session, they would just open all registers to the max and use the shattered corpse of the test subject for final analysis.

* * *

Another day went by. Rocket had been patched up as far as this vastly superior technology could regenerate a road kill victim. On the outside, there were no traces left of the ordeal he had been put through. Most of his bone fractures had healed. He needed this day and the next to fully recover. He would even be able to walk again, if he could tolerate the pain. Every organ in his body had been traumatised. Every cell in his body had been traumatised. Even cells need some time to recover from such a battlefield before they can function normally again.

His brain was no longer swollen. In the ICU, the temperature of his head had been restored to a normal level. He was transported back to his cell. A counter-drug was not necessary. He was given time for the anaesthetics to wear off.

This happened very gradually, as the day turned into night. The traumatised sentient had been lying there with his eyes half closed; having periods of total absence, falling asleep, being struck by nightmares, waking up sweating and screaming. Lying there like a zombie, feeling very confused, not knowing which day it was or where he was. Falling asleep again, awakening in terror.

After the sun had set, he came back to his senses. His senses told him that he had been ripped apart and somehow glued together again. His right hand slid over his belly, his sides, his back, his head and any part of his body that he could inspect. Everything felt sore, smashed. There were so many pains that he wasn't able to single out one in particular. It was not unlike an orchestra in which every instrument played at the same time, a cacophony of false notes.

He used the time to do some thinking. _Twice now, he expected that he wouldn't survive, but he still lived. Two test rounds had forced a demented torture on him. Two more would follow._

 _He guessed that they would progress to finer incursions. It would be like being perforated by bullets from all directions, like a Mafia liquidation. But he would not die from it, no, he would be dragged back to live again._

 _He expected the physical pain from the next experiment to be so severe that he would loose consciousness soon after the start. He wouldn't even need an anaesthetic. Unless they planned to do some other sadistic business in between. That worried him a lot. Being cut apart is bad enough, but seeing himself being cut apart, unable to move a muscle was ... a torment he just couldn't put himself through again._

 _He needed to get out or to kill himself. Suicide would paradoxically count as an act of self-preservation in such an extreme situation, he realised with morbid cynicism._

 _It wasn't just the pain that made getting out an existential need. What freaked him out most were the strange things that the humiliation and the torture had been doing to his mind. The time lapses, the absent memories and the depressions. He had experienced drastic personality changes. He felt alienated by the total loss of power over his mind and body, as if he was some kind of shoe people can slip in and out at will. The dreadful nurse ... the fact that he debased himself to plea for mercy and didn't even think it was a bad thing._

 _No matter how much they had intruded and damaged his body, the damage to his soul was the worst. He really didn't know who he was anymore; what he was, or what he was supposed to be. Even if he could get out, which he was sure by now wasn't going to happen, he had no idea how he ever could fix himself from ... what he had become. He figured he would be waking up from nightmares for every nigh to come, screaming like a pig being gutted alive._

Self-pity and despair, his companions for the last days, engulfed him once more. He sighed, then sighed again. He rolled his head to the left and to the right. Again he sighed, flexing his body, giving the four chains a yank. Then he sunk back into apathy, breathing audibly and rubbing his forehead. There was a very discontent expression on his face. He was utterly unhappy and longed for ... _someone to help him_.

 _He felt so left behind and alone. If he would die, nobody would even know it. He could use a friend right now._ He made a note to himself: ' _Make more friends_ '.

 _But it was too late. In these final remaining hours, the last privacy he had in his life, the last time that his body would be more or less intact, he wanted to have at least these moments for himself. Alone with his thoughts, contemplating, overseeing his far too short life._

He didn't even notice that tears had been welling up again. That was just another thing. He had been crying a lot. At first, he fought it. _Men don't cry_ , he said to himself, being so macho and all. But now, things were different. He just let the tears come; he had made peace with it. It helped him relax. He thought, _After all I've been through, I'm entitled to a bit of comfortin'. Even if I've to do it myself._

The tears kept flowing. His head sunk backward into the pillow. His jaw hinged. He whined. Nobody was here; nobody to judge him, nobody to humiliate him. _And even if there were ... he didn't care anymore how he looked and what people would think of him._ He yowled and it was good. His last complaint to a world that didn't listen anyway.


	11. A Tiny Plant

**A Tiny Plant**

Suddenly, he heard a quiet sound reminiscent of a scurrying insect. His ears turned towards the source. His voice became silent and the tears stopped. He had the feeling that something was in the cage with him.

It came from above, from the opposite corner of the cell. On top of the green barrel that stood on the shelf, there was a creature. Rocket remembered that he had seen a little brown object when he was in the tub, a few days ago. Back on the bed, he couldn't see it from his low viewpoint, but now there was a bigger thing and it moved.

He remembered that the nurse had poured stuff on it. _He figured the container was open from above and something was in it. Something that came out now?_

* * *

There is something that Rocket couldn't have known.

When he was brought to the research facility after his visit to the treacherous tailor, he was carrying his new suit. With all his belongings in its pockets.

The nurse had emptied the pockets of the suit, to make sure that nothing would interfere with the test. She found keys, a pass, a gun and a piece of wood. She was about to put the items into a locker. That was standard procedure: the belongings of the test subjects were stored in lockers. After a certain period, the paraphernalia were destroyed if they had no use.

At first, she thought the piece of wood was just a useless object. But at closer inspection, it looked like a humanoid figure. It almost seemed to have a face, arms and legs.

Not knowing what to do with it, she showed it to the doctor, who had newly arrived and was preparing for Rocket's implant surgery. The question of the perfectionist nurse annoyed him a bit, but he was in a cheerful mood and not yet accustomed to the serious attitude of his new co-workers. He took the piece of wood in his hands and suggested, "That's a nice sprout you got there. Put it in a pot and look what comes out."

He had meant it as a joke. _For all he cared, she could throw the stick away_. However, the lady was completely devoid of any sense of humour and followed all orders to the letter. So she improvised a flower pot, got some earth, put the seedling in and put in on a shelf in 89P13's cell. _A suitable place_ , she figured, _because that spot of the building caught a lot of sunlight_. She gave it nutrients and water every day. To her, it was just another nameless patient to take care of.

Rocket had seen her being busy with the container on the shelf but thought it was irrelevant.

* * *

So there he was lying in his bed, looking at the moving thing and feeling scared because he had absolutely no idea what it was and why it had been put there.

His night vision enabled him to see it pretty sharply. It resembled a little humanoid figure. It had two beady eyes, a kind of crown on the head and tiny arms.

It stepped through the container, climbed over the rim and now was on the shelf. It had feet and could walk. Not a bug like Rocket had ever seen. It even had a kind of humanoid mouth, just discernable from that distance.

At first, the experienced space traveller was nervous about the bug. He had encountered some nasty insects in this galaxy. Lying defenceless on the bed made him feel uneasy. Then he was surprised about the strange thing that hopped out of the pot.

It jumped off the shelf, onto the ground, walked with tiny paces towards his bed, climbed on his mattress and studied his face.

The creature was about 25 cm tall. A bit larger than it seemed at first. It had a friendly face and smiled at him.

Rocket started to snicker. The creature's smile deepened in response. The snicker became a laugh and finally he threw his head back into his pillow, chortling.

The figure looked at him as friendly as before, although the behaviour of this large, troubled mammal puzzled him.

Rocket paused, turned around, looked at him again and then recommenced laughing. Catching his breath, he tried to say something but was unable to stop giggling in between, "Ye're a ... gnome, right? A leprechaun or something?" he giggled through his teeth. "I've lost it, I've completely lost it," he screamed and started to laugh uncontrollably again. "I'm seein' things! Ha ha ha ha ha, I'm startin' ta see things now. I'm goin' crazy!"

He had tears in his eyes, this time from laughing. His muzzle displayed a big grin, but there were some wrinkles in his lips that showed sadness as a secondary emotion. He looked away, at the door, and tried to catch his breath. He tried to breathe normally, chuckling, cheering a bit to let off steam.

He turned his head towards the creature again, as he was sure this all was just an illusion; but he saw the friendly critter standing there, watching him in mild amazement.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Rocket went again in uncontrollable laughter, "It's still there! This is too good!"

He wiped the tears from his eyes. He was so hysterically amused with this apparent fit of delusion, that he wanted to play it out. "Hey, little fella," he spoke as if to address a small child that was lost, "do ya have a name?

"I am Groot," it squeaked.

His joyous companion threw himself on his back, laughing his guts out, stomping the mattress with his fists in utter enjoyment and said, "It has a name, it's a _Groot_!"

His lips were pouting in a joyful pose when he pronounced the word ' _Groot_ ' (a facial expression typical to bear-like mammals with flexible lips). He kept chortling as if this was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"I am Groot," the tiny creature repeated.

"Yes you are, yes you are," he laughed. Then Rocket turned on his side, as comfortably as he could and looked at the charming little guy. "O, ye're quite somethin'," he said. "This is so funny." He snickered. Then continued the game, "Say, what kinda creature are ya? I never saw someone like ya."

"I am Groot," it remarked with a variation in tone.

"I know, ye're Groot, but what are you? Are you a Groot?"

"I am Groot" the small guy affirmed.

"You don't say," Rocket giggled. _In a way, he was glad that he was loosing his mind and had such a good laugh in his final hours. This was an unexpected but welcome way to say goodbye to the world. He never expected that his brain was able to play tricks like that, but it got him a good mood, so he accepted it._

He inspected the thing a bit closer. Although he couldn't discern its colour really well because it was night, he noticed that it had a wood-like structure and in addition to that, a few leaves that sprouted from its body. Rocket said, smiling broadly, "Ya look like some kind of walkin' plant."

"I am Groot," the plant answered.

"How do I come up with stuff like that?" the patient wondered out loud, snickering.

Then the plant took little steps towards him, one at a time. The furless victim of science was facing the sapling and wasn't scared or distrustful at all. He was curious about the tiny fellow's next moves and hoped it wouldn't pop into thin air the next moment. At least it was good while it lasted.

Something unexpected happened. Groot touched Rocket's lips and he could feel it. That took him aback for a moment, but then he remembered that hallucinations can cause all kinds of sensory perceptions. On Halfworld, he had followed a few courses in psychiatry.

Groot continued to touch his lips with his minuscule hands. Then he rubbed his arms against the gums and formidable teeth. _The predator wondered why he would do that but found it entertaining and didn't mind. It felt nice that a person, who for a change didn't seem to be evil, touched him._

In a reflex, he licked Groot. In an instant, he recognised the taste. _A little piece of wood. He had stuck it in his mouth before the Nova Corps got him and had kept it since then. He saw a flashback from the Collector heist, looking at the label 'Living wood, Planet X.'_

His face took a more serious look. He started to think. _There was a relation. Piece of wood, walking tree?_ Then he figured it out and asked, "I've got a question fer ya. Jus' nod fer 'yes' and shake fer 'no'."

The creature seemed to understand and nodded.

"Are ya from Planet X?"

Groot nodded.

 _How's that possible?_ Rocket thought. _Did he grow out of that piece of wood? That would make sense, it sure is living. But why was it in his cell?  
_ He became wary; _why would the nurse, that piece of work, have put it in a pot and grow it?_ He moved his head back a bit. _He still wasn't sure if this was a real thing. However, if it was real, it could be a part of yet another twisted scheme to torture him._

The small plant looked at him curiously.

"Why are ya here?" Rocket asked less friendly.

Groot pointed at the pot.

"Yes, I know ya come out of the flower pot."

"Why has the nurse been growin' ya?"

Groot shrugged his shoulders and answered, "I am Groot?"

"This doesn't get us further," he said impatiently, "I don't trust that hellcat. What does she want with you?"

Groot repeated his response. He didn't seem to know.

The captive mammal was silent and started to ponder. _This wasn't a hallucination. There was a Groot in his room, whatever that was. However, his initial trust in the innocent looking guy was gone._ He was thinking hard. _A walking plant. What kind of deranged business could they plan to do with a sentient seedling? And why did it show up now?_

The sapling noticed the changing attitude of the tormented patient. He seemed to have an idea what to do next. "I am Groot," he said and jumped off the bed. He climbed onto the trolley with the tub and, with some difficulty, managed to get water to flow in.

"Hey, what are ya doin'? Rocket asked more distrustfully. "Stay here, don't jump around and do crazy stuff."  
With irritation he said, "You wanna gimme a bath or somethin'?"

Groot shook 'no', vigorously.

"I don't trust ya!" the shackled predator exclaimed.

The plant looked at the angry raccoon with a sad face and replied, "I am Groot!" while pointing to himself. It sounded resentful, like he felt treated unjustly.

"Yeah, yeah, sure" Rocket sneered. "Ye're not one of the bad guys. I'll tell ya, the most innocent lookin' are the worst." _Like his tailor, he realised with pain in his heart. Friendly people can't be trusted._

The little fellow looked at him, frowning and shaking his head. "I am Groot!" he repeated, taking a pose of pride and smiled.

"O sure, ye're one of the good guys. Next thing ye're gonna get me outta here. That'll be the day."

Groot didn't answer to this sceptic remark. He just climbed into the tub. The chained prisoner saw the sprout disappear beneath the rim. For a few seconds nothing happened. He heard splashing noises that got louder. Then, all of a sudden a figure rose from the tub, growing bigger by the second.

This scared the hell out of Rocket. He tried to push himself away from it, yanking his chains.

But the small leprechaun, now a giant tree, just sat in the tub and smiled at him.

"That the idea?" the raccoon screamed, "are ya gonna assault me in here?"

The gently smiling giant shook his head a few times. He declared, "I am Groot!" His pitch had sunk many octaves and now he spoke in a pleasant bass voice. His roommate couldn't understand the meaning of his message, but Groot said it with peace and dignity.  
He stepped out of the tub and stood on his feet. He had to bend his head to stand completely upright.

"Get away, get away!" Rocket yelled.

The giant just stood there and looked at the confused, battered animal with an enigmatic smile. He remained standing for a while longer and waited for the poor guy to calm down.

Then he slowly, but decisively, walked over to the small raccoon, who jumped back again.

The Flora colossus paused a moment and spoke, "I am Groot," then gently placed an arm on the left shoulder of the bald patient. It seemed to mean 'Don't be afraid.'

That wasn't very convincing to Rocket. He still looked at the giant in fear about what was going to come.

Which happened two seconds later. Groot took the chain around the captive's left arm in his hands and snapped it like it was a piece of string. The other chains followed.  
"I am Groot," he let know, taking a bow and retreating a few paces.

This wasn't what Rocket had expected to happen. He sat up on the bed and looked at Groot in surprise. It took him about half a minute to let it all sink in. Then he asked, "So, ye're a test subject too?"

Groot didn't know for sure. Technically, he was inside a cell for test subjects, so the answer was likely to be yes. He nodded.

"What have they done to ya?" his roommate asked curiously.

His fellow captive shook his head, shrugged and remarked, "I am Groot."

Rocket guessed, "Yeah, ya were probably too small an' too young to get tested." Having said that, _he wondered if Kree would have such considerations._


	12. Leaving with a Vengeance

**Leaving with a Vengeance**

Rocket's way of thinking changed profoundly. He was back to his old self. He decided that he would trust Groot for the time being. At least as some kind of breakout ally, a guy he could use.

"We're gonna break outta here," he simply said, "ya with me?"

Groot nodded enthusiastically.

The patient slowly moved his feet to the edge of the mattress. He slid down cautiously, then tried to stand up but had to hold himself onto the bed to not fall down. The genetically engineered raccoon hadn't been on his feet for a number of days and his body was still shaky after all the abuse. Everything felt sore and his back hurt a lot. Luckily, the laughing session with the little plant had given him a shot of endorphins, invigorating him to take a few steps.

He noticed the hoses attached to his butt and his penis. Moreover, he remembered the pipe in his throat. He decided he wanted that out first because it had been driving him crazy.

The dexterous sentient animal slipped his hand into his muzzle, tried to get his claws around the pipe, managed to get some grip and pulled. It was very painful. He had the impression that if he would pull out the pipe, his oesophagus and stomach would follow. He pulled some more, but then quit. This wasn't the way.

Stubbornly, he put in his hand again and tried to squeeze and twist the pipe. He felt he could turn it a bit. _Maybe he could screw it loose_. When he revolved it by 180 degrees, it seemed to shrink and give. He could pull it out now without any trouble.

Next thing, he unplugged the hoses from his lower body, unscrewed the plug in his penis and then pulled the pipe out that had been stuck in his butt. Something unsanitary was dripping out. Caring about his personal hygiene, he went over to the cart. He found some soap and asked Groot to fill the tub. The raccoon pulled himself up onto the trolley and washed his hands. _What a delightful feeling_! He took a cloth, made it wet, cleaned his penis, balls and finally his behind. He put some detergent on his paws and washed them again.

The blue device on his wrist had to go. He remembered, full of hate, how the nurse used the thing to switch him on and off like a light bulb. Unfortunately, it was attached to his wrist tightly, hurting as he yanked it, so he figured he could better remove it with a tool.

Meanwhile, his brains had been working on a plan to get out. _There were things to do. He had to get his suit. He needed to access the building plans, find a safe route to the outside world, switch off security. Even more important: he needed his gun!_

"OK, ye're ready?" he signalled to Groot.

The brown giant answered in his usual way. Rocket walked to the security lock at the wall and tried the nurse's code he had memorised. The barred door opened without delay.

"Back in business," the accomplished burglar said and smirked.

He stuck his head round the door and took a good look towards both ends of the curved corridor. It was middle of the night. No activity as far as he could see. He gestured to Groot to follow. They moved in the direction of the lab, staying close to the inner wall to avoid detection.

The genetically engineered animal had trouble walking on two feet; he wobbled while he walked. On all fours was better; it allowed him to walk in a normal gait.

They arrived at the big door that sealed the lab. The clever mammal had managed to memorise some more security codes. The lead scientist's code for example, which he had seen him use in the lab. The ringtail tried this sequence on a small keypad next to the door. The system accepted the code but the door didn't open. "Damn!" Rocket cursed, "There's another lockin' level." He looked at Groot and asked, "Can ya pull the panel off?"

The big tree moved his hand towards the device and pulled it apart in one single motion.

"Cool!" Rocket exclaimed. He studied the wires that stuck out and soon figured out which ones he had to crosswire. As he connected them, the door slid open. "Hold the door," he commanded Groot. The raccoon hopped into the lab. He tried some storage closets; most of them were not locked. He found an empty barrel that could do the job, rolled it to the entrance and jammed the door with it. The resulting opening was too small for Groot to pass through. His furry partner said, "Jes' keep 'n eye open. I'll be done in a minute."

The first thing the shaven mammal did, was walk towards the suit that was draped over a clothing rack. He put on the trousers. That felt a lot better after having walked around furless, naked and all. Then he grabbed the jacket and suddenly felt a jolt of painful memories. In a moment, he wanted to throw the dubious piece of engineering away, even rip it apart. How much pain this thing had caused him! But then he said to himself, _Ye've paid fer it with yer own blood, ya absolutely need to keep it!_

Rocket checked if the suit was switched on and pulled it over his back. He connected the plugs to his implants, slipped into the sleeves and zipped it. Then he walked over to a terminal and switched it on. Luckily, he could get in with the code of the lead scientist. _Sloppy_ , he thought. _The flarkin' chief had a pretty high clearance level_. Rocket could access everything he needed: building schematics and the security system.

The building security was pretty tight. Two elevation platforms went right to ground level, into a surveillance section filled with guards. Even at night, they had duty.

The hacking mammal used the security program to switch off everything he could switch off without getting detected. Then he noticed a fire security subsection, controlling sprinklers, oxygen levels and a variety of protocols.

 ** _Torch the place!_** cheered a wicked voice in his head, making him grin with malicious joy. _Burning the place down, that would be the best! Destroying evidence, destroying all test results those fuckers worked so hard for, destroying this whole insane torture place. He absolutely had to do that. He should get a fucking medal for it!_

He switched off all layers of fire security, including the automatic signal to the fire fighters. The arsonist remembered that he had seen barrels in the closet with chemicals that would burn nicely.

 _OK, what else? His weapon, contents of his pockets._ He located a file for test subject 89P13 - he hated that code - and found the location of his possessions. Using the terminal, he could open the locker remotely, went over and took his gun, units and keys.

He had found info on the blue device around his wrist. He walked over to a medical closet, browsed through some drawers and picked up an instrument that could unlock the ring. It even withdrew the needle automatically and sealed the artery. _Kree efficiency_.

Next, the maltreated, thievish mammal searched a number of storage shelves to see if he could find some valuables that would compensate for the damage, at least to a little extent. He found a box full of data spheres. He had no time to check their contents but knew he could make a price for them on the black market. He put them in a bag and walked back to the door.

"I am Groot?" his partner wanted to know.

"I'm done, we got to leave now. Ya seen anything?"

Groot shook his head.

"One last thing," Rocket said. The pyromaniac raccoon went to a closet and rolled out some barrels with fuel. To his surprise, the barrels were as light as a feather. He figured the suit compensated for the weight of the barrels and gave him unusual strength. Almost playfully, the super powered mammal piled them up in the middle of the laboratory. He took out some more, screwed off the lids and rolled them through the lab, making sure the highly flammable substance would cover most of the floor. He opened another three, until the place was soaked and vapours began to rise. Finally, the smart raccoon selected a barrel with a fluid that he knew would burn slowly.

Groot smelled the vapours that came from the lab and got frightened. "I am Groot," he worried, pointing at the bark that surrounded his body.

"Don' worry," Rocket reassured, "I know ye're flammable. Ya won' get hurt, I promise. Jes' walk through the hallway to the other side, you'll find an elevation platform. I'll be there shortly."

Groot obeyed. When he was gone, the sentient animal unplugged the last drum, climbed over the jammed barrel in the doorway while pouring the contents around. He then rolled it through the hallway, creating a fuse of liquid gel. Soon he reached the other side and spilled the last drop. He said to Groot, "Step onto the platform. I'm gonna torch this stuff, an' we're out."

Rocket lit the liquid trail with his gun. The fire followed the trail of the gel back at walking speed, into the direction of the lab. He joined his partner on the platform, sending it to ground level. He announced, "It'll take a few minutes before the shit hits the fan."

The platform passed a number of stores before sinking through a transparent tube into a big central hall. Beneath was the security ring: it was a one store, round section in the hall with a roof, where both elevator shafts passed through. Rocket knew that once you got into the security ring, you would need to pass clearance sections. There were guards standing around who probably would be surprised to see a big tree and a small mammal leave the building. Surprised meaning: shooting first and asking questions later.

But that wasn't the plan. As the platform almost reached the roof of the security section, the alert raccoon pressed the emergency stop button. Immediately, he stretched his right arm upward and burned a hole into the elevator shaft with his gun. He moved his arm in a wide circular motion, drilling through the material. When he was almost done, he turned to his buddy and asked, "Can ya pull the cut-out into the shaft? Be careful, it's hot."

Groot pulled the hinging plate onto the platform with one tug. They tiptoed through the large gap in the shaft onto the roof of the clearance section.

"OK, this is what we're gonna do," the raccoon instructed. "We're sneaking off that side," he said and pointed to the left. "There's a blind wall in the security section. We're moving in a wide arc to there," he explained and pointed forward, where Groot could see the entrance of a tunnel, sloping into the ground. "That's an entrance to the sub-city transport network. You carry me and I'll cover our rear."

Groot took Rocket and put his clever friend on his right shoulder. The shaven ringtail held on to his partner's head, while turning halfway backwards, focussing and ready to fire at anything he didn't like. The twisting made his back ache. He clenched his teeth to bear the pain.

The tree walked to the end of the roof, sat down, just made his legs grow to the floor and started walking into the direction his companion had shown him, gradually shrinking his legs. Rocket was slightly astonished by the peculiar way his new friend moved around. He realised that this fellow had some unsuspected capabilities that were very useful in situations such as these. He'd done business before with strange, gifted aliens and had an open mind about it.

They walked across the hall, getting closer to the underground entrance. The raccoon watched the security section with heightened attention, while they moved around it at increasing distance. A guard booth came into his sight. _Was the guard paying attention? Yes, the man had spotted them. Hard to miss a three metre long walking tree with an animal on top._ The guard should have had a better look. While he run out of the booth and reached for his gun, the animal had already squeezed his trigger. The guard was hit and fell to the floor.

It only took a few seconds before more guards swarmed out of the building. Rocket, having the advantage of night vision in the sparsely lit hall, took them out by economically moving his arm and pulling the trigger at great speed. "Run!" he commanded Groot.

The big tree ran and dove into the subway section, onto a people conveyor leading down. More guards had followed them and rushed through the tunnel entrance, back above. Rocket fired to keep them off their backs. Some return fire hit him and his friend. Groot felt the impact of a shot. While he continued running, his body shook briefly. His partner learned that the tree was fairly robust. He himself took two hits to his suit, leaving not even a burn mark.

They arrived on a platform below, where several short cylindrical vehicles were docked, waiting for passengers. Rocket shouted, "Into the front cart, quickly!"

Groot ducked so that his passenger wouldn't bump his head and jumped into the craft. The raccoon dove off, ran to the controls in the mid section of the vehicle, made the doors close and punched in a destination. The transport capsule immediately accelerated into a tube at the end of the platform.

The cart had a transparent upper half and a small number of seats, facing inwards. The Flora colossus sat in the front on two places. In the back, his tense partner looked through the rear section, observing the small spot of light at the end of the tunnel they had passed through. Nothing seemed to follow them.

Then they felt a rumble, resembling the thunder of lightning. The cart jolted slightly and hit the walls of the tube, producing a trail of sparks. After a second, the magnetic suspension system regained grip on the fast moving object and the journey continued undisturbed.

When Rocket heard the explosion, he smiled broadly and looked at his partner. Groot looked at him and smiled back. Not broadly, just friendly. They knew that this was probably the result of the ringtail's arson. The tree didn't like fire, but he liked his new buddy. He liked him very much. He felt sentimental about small mammals.

Soon they arrived at Kree-Lar Main Space Port. The raccoon leaped out of the train as soon as the doors opened. He ran on four legs and Groot followed the speeding animal.

The sun hadn't risen yet. The port wasn't too busy at this early hour. Some commuters and travellers, one or two giving the strange couple a quick, curious glance. Most ignored them. This was a transgalactic space port. Here, the Kree were used to all kinds of weird creatures moving about.

Rocket raced without taking down speed, down the hallways, the central hall, to the docking platforms. Finally, they arrived at his spaceship. He paid his ticket and the craft was released. Groot had kept up and stood behind him on the platform. Rocket took his key to open the door of his ship. But then he hesitated and looked at Groot.


	13. No Goodbyes

**No Goodbyes**

* * *

 **Notes:**

(2016-03-17) Finally, all story chapters 1 - 13 have been reviewed, edited and reposted. You now have the full story in version 3.02! Next days, I'll recheck the appendix chapters 14 - 16. These are not essential to the story, but as a GotG fan or even as a general reader, you may find cool background information in these chapters.

* * *

There was a moment of silence. They just looked at each other and smiled. Finally, Groot sat on his knees and Rocket embraced him, giving him a big and long hug. He spoke, "I won't forget ya, buddy. Nobody's ever done such a thing fer me." His eyes became wet and he quickly rubbed them before he would become all sentimental.

He let go, looked at his ship, then back to Groot in uncertainty. Hesitantly, he opened up the door, stepped in and closed it. For a moment, he sat in the pilot seat and didn't know how to go on from there. Then he heard a knock on the door's window.

"I am Groot?" the big fellow asked surprised. He gestured at himself and then to the ship. Rocket looked at him and broadened up.

"Of course ya can come with me!" he said joyfully. He hopped off his chair, pointed to the rear of the vessel and walked in that direction. Groot followed him from outside. The raccoon opened the cargo bay door and the giant tree stepped in. Rocket muttered a bit shyly, "I ... I didn't know if ya ... I mean ..." Then, cheerfully, "Hey, what the heck! Welcome aboard, crewmate!"

Groot smiled. _He liked this. Being part of a crew. When he was standing outside and saw the small mammal step into the ship, he realised that he didn't want to part with this marvellous creature. He just met him and the last hours felt like a lifetime full of adventures. He wanted more. He felt in his heart that this brash and yet so vulnerable little guy would need help from a friend; a friend he gladly wanted to be. For Groot, it was destiny._

Rocket taxied to a short, elevated runway, busy with the ship's controls. Groot had followed him to the front. The craft was designed for small people. The tree-man could just about walk without bumping his head. Arriving in the cockpit, he figured he wouldn't fit into the co-pilot seat, so he sat down further behind, in the chair for the board engineer. The seat made cracking sounds as he lowered his body onto it, but held him.

Lift off. The runway broke off in mid-air. The piloting raccoon had to make for a fast acceleration and immediate climb into the sky. When they were airborne, Rocket made a quick loop over the city. Down below, he could see the research centre with its round rooftop opened like a cracked egg. A sea of raging flames was devouring the lab, reaching out to consume the rest of the roof. Several fire-fighting crafts were hovering above, attempting to control the fire.

The scoundrel grinned, satisfied about his latest handiwork. He yelled, "Yeah, that's right, suckers! Burn, bitch, burn!" He cheered, waving his left arm above his head while making a fist. "That's what ya get when ya f ... That's what ya get when ya f ... f ..." His voice dropped and he was confused. Victoriously, he wanted to say 'When ya fuck with Rocket', but when the vindicating ringtail was about to say it, a Pandora's Box of emotions opened up in him. He felt terror, despair, rage and an intense feeling of humiliation. His emotions were racing against each other, competing to get to the surface. For a moment, he lost control of the craft. His face became pale and his eyes went out of focus.

Groot looked at his mate and worried. "I am Groot?" he asked.

Rocket came around. He shook his head to get rid of the dreadful feelings. He took a deep breath, held the steering control in a firm grip, and took another breath. He directed his gaze to the sky, away from the cursed institution from which thick clouds of black smoke were escaping. _Away from Kree-Lar, away from Hala_.

He punched in a few commands. The ship went into vertical ascension, the engines fired and within seconds, they entered the star-spangled depths of outer space. Hala was a rapidly shrinking spot behind them, but Rocket didn't look back. _He never wanted to catch a glimpse of that planet again. Never wanted to see a blue face again. Never..._

For a while, they moved through space at sub light-speed. Hala's big star gradually shrunk and joined the other stars of the Large Magellanic Cloud. After a while, the raccoon seemed to lighten up and decided, "Hey, I know a guy who's crazy 'bout Kree data spheres. Let's pay him a visit." He programmed the ship. The engines howled as it jumped into hyper-luminous speed. "It's about a day's journey," Rocket remarked. "A pretty safe route." He activated the autopilot and yawned. He stretched his arms and his legs, yawned even harder; closing his eyes, stretching his tongue out, bending his head back, opening his muzzle to full size, exposing his forty teeth, bending the tip of his tongue inward. "Let's go to the bunk," he proposed.

Groot followed him. The plucked mammal undressed and put his suit over a chair. He still looked very naked, but to his joy, a dense haze of tiny hairs had started to regrow on his body. His dark eye patches were getting visible again, just as the rings around his bald raccoon didn't feel any shame in front of his new buddy. Groot had seen him like this. He probably had seen him in a much worse state. Somewhere, in the back of his head, Rocket wondered what part of his misery Groot had been a witness of. On the other hand, this was the kind of question that he wanted to bury very deep inside. This whole episode just didn't exist, was to be erased from history.

He dressed in a PJ and stepped into his bed. _He looked at Groot and wondered what he could offer the giant to sleep in. Did trees sleep_? "Do ya need somethin' to sleep in?"

Groot shook his head.

"Do ya sleep at all?"

The tree nodded, sat down and seemed to be comfortable, leaning his back against the wall.

"If the bad guys come in, you give 'm a good punch, eh?" he joked. _Then he felt silly about the joke he made. As if he needed a babysitter_. Finally, he said, "Goodnight."

And Groot wished him "I am Groot" in return.

He turned and tossed in his bunk, lying on his back as was his habit, but the implants bugged him. Sleeping on his belly proved to be more comfortable. He fell asleep, exhausted from the previous day and everything before.

* * *

That night, he woke up crying. _Someone was gently petting the back of his head. He felt confused. Did he just wake up or had he been like this for some time? The petting on his head felt soothing. A very big guy was sitting next to the bed. For a moment, he startled, but then he recognised Groot, as if he had known him forever._

His tears kept running and he sighed from time to time. The caressing felt gentle; a few twigs with little leaves were moving over his short, shaven hairs.

Groot let go of him. Then something odd happened. As he sat down in a comfortable position, small branches and twigs grew out of his chest, twisting and turning around, forming something that looked like a big ... bird's nest. He took his distressed friend in his arms, ever so gently, and laid him into the nest. He took his pillow and his blanket to tug him in comfortably.

Although Rocket laid on his back now, in the nest he didn't feel his implants. Groot managed to support all of his back and body without touching the metal incursions. The cherished animal felt very relaxed, as relaxed as never before. His pain, his sorrow and his sadness oozed out of him, giving way to a glowing feeling of warmth and safety.

He had been in a state in which he didn't care about the world anymore and hoped to die soon. This time, he didn't care about anything too. It was completely the opposite. This moment could last forever, and he would be perfectly content.

Almost instinctively, his arms stretched out to touch the bark of Groot's chest; his tiny hands caressed him, making gentle, grasping movements. In turn the little animal held on to him and let go again; he felt the wooden structures with a sense of touch that is unique to raccoons.

Groot looked at his soft, warm-blooded friend and just smiled happily. The loving tree was ... like a mother. _The mammal didn't even know if he had a mother, he didn't remember much of his childhood._

So many things this life had stripped Rocket bare of; so many things that any normal person had, were denied to the poor soul. Now here was a unique moment that nobody could take away. It was a long overdue gift the universe had handed to him. To make up for a lot.

His eyes shimmered. His pupils were open wide. His jaw slightly ajar, an expression of bliss on his face. His gaze wasn't empty but full, full of something wondrous that was new to him. His eyelids sank, his arms slid onto the blanket in slow motion. Rocket stepped into a forest and dreamt of happiness.


	14. Appendix 1: List of Characters

**Appendix 1: List of Characters**

Here's a list of characters in order of appearance

Note: this chapter has a limited layout due to restrictions of ffnet. If you want to see the full story, with pictures, tables and links, go to Archive of Our Own (AO3), look for _The Suit_ by _SaterHelberg_. AO3 supports many html tags in publications.

 **Name - - Species - - Occupation - - Original character - - Sex**

Rocket Raccoon - - sentient raccoon - - thief - - no - - M

Lylla - - sentient otter - - nurse - - no - - F

Groot - - Flora colossus - - none - - no - - M

Tor-Nal - - Kree - - surgeon - - yes - - M

Lom-Dag - - Kree - - tailor-engineer - - yes - - M

Taneleer Tivan (The Collector) - - Elder - - collector - - no - - M

corrupt Nova officer - - Xandarian - - Nova officer - - yes - - M

Bor-Nat - - Kree - - admiral - - yes - - M

Yan-Del - - Kree - - chief scientist - - yes - - M

Bardan - - Xandarian - - thief - - yes - - M

Mandos - - Mandos - - thief - - yes - - M

Rowlr Zas - - Mephitisoid - - thief - - yes - - F

the nurse - - Kree - - nurse - - yes - - F

operator 1 - - Kree - - system operator - - yes - - M

operator 2 - - Kree - - system operator - - yes - - F

assistant 1 - - Kree - - OR assistant - - yes - - M

assistant 2 - - Kree - - OR assistant - - yes - - F


	15. Appendix 2: Intro for Non-canon Readers

**Appendix 2: Intro for Non-canon Readers**

Note: this chapter has a limited layout due to restrictions of ffnet. If you want to see the full story, with pictures, tables and links, go to Archive of Our Own (AO3), look for _The Suit_ by _SaterHelberg_. AO3 supports many html tags in publications.

* * *

Rocket Raccoon is a smart sentient raccoon who walks upright, understands and speaks language. He's about 80-90 cm tall and would look like a large, but normal raccoon if he would lie curled up on a chair. Aside from the fact that he wears clothes, has adaptations for upright walking and has a slightly elongated head, containing a large brain.

On Halfworld, his planet of origin, non-sentient animals from Earth have been genetically engineered into sentient animals (1). Halfworld is a planet that probably revolves around Sirius, eight light-years from Earth. Half of its surface is an asylum for incurable humanoid psychiatric patients. Sentient robots inhabit the other half of the planet. Hence the name 'Halfworld'.

The sentient animals take care of the patients. Rocket is a 'ranger', the chief security officer of the asylum. He is in love with Lylla, a sentient otter female.

Due to the arrival of a dangerous mindreading patient, Rocket left Halfworld to prevent the patient from compromising the security of the institution (3).The brave raccoon even ordered to have parts of his memory erased, to make sure the telepathic criminal would not be able to escape by reading his mind.

Since then Rocket roams the galaxies. First as a hero out of a job, later as a thief and bounty hunter. He eventually will join the 'Guardians of the Galaxy', a vigilante command troop (2).

The story presented here is situated somewhere in between Rocket leaving his home world and him joining the Guardians. When the story begins, he hasn't met Groot yet. Groot is a walking tree from Planet X (galaxy: unknown) who will become his best friend.

In The Suit, Rocket visits a number of worlds:

Hala is the central planet of the Kree empire in the Large Magellanic Cloud galaxy. Kree are humanoids with a blue skin colour. Kree strive to self-perfection and think of themselves as superior to other species. The capital of Hala is Kree-Lar. Kree are technologically advanced.

Xandar is the home planet of the Nova Corps. The Nova Corps acts as a trans-galactic police force. They reside in the Andromeda galaxy and have considerably advanced technology. Xandarians look like humans.

Other species Rocket will meet are a Mandosian and a Mephitisoid, both indigenous to Andromeda.

Furthermore, he visits Knowhere. Knowhere is a bizarre place. It's the severed head of a 'Celestial', a god-like being that is as old as the universe. In there, the Elder Taneleer Tivan, better known as the Collector, has a large museum. The location of Knowhere is 'on the very outskirts of known space'.

* * *

Footnotes:  
(1) Rocket Raccoon Vol. 1 - 1 to 4 (1985)  
(2) Annihilation Conquest - Starlord - 1 (2007)  
(3) Annihilators - 1 to 4 (2011)  
Publisher: Marvel Comics


	16. Appendix 3: Info for Canon readers

**Appendix 3: Info for Canon Readers**

Note: this chapter has a limited layout due to restrictions of ffnet. If you want to see the full story, with pictures, tables and links, go to Archive of Our Own (AO3), look for _The Suit_ by _SaterHelberg_. AO3 supports many html tags in publications.

 **Universes: Marvel Canon**

There are a number of Marvel universes:

\- Earth-199999 aka the Marvel Cinematic Universe,

\- Earth-616, the mainstream Marvel comic Universe

and many more. Groot, Rocket Raccoon and the other Guardians of the Galaxy mainly or exclusively appear in these two universes. When writing fan fiction, a general rule is to stay close to 'canon', meaning, try to use the same world and characters in your story and write it like it could have been written by the original author(s).

Of course, such a rule can be broken purposefully.

Staying close to the Marvel canon is almost impossible, because Marvel itself doesn't stay close to Marvel canon. Marvel uses a large collection of characters and worlds, which they kind of reinvent every couple of years. They deliberately persiflage themselves. If the reappearance of a character in a new context creates a plot gap, issues with retrofitted explanations may appear later. They will spawn alternate universes on the fly to bridge storylines.

Many authors and many graphic artists work with many characters. Sometimes authors and artists will switch halfway a single issue. Frequently, they will take over each other's work within a series, especially 'open' series (as opposed to series that are limited and closed after two to six issues). The supervising editors do not seem to care much for consistency, but leave room for each artist to create stories and characterisations in his own style.

In the Cinematic Universe, old storylines are reshaped and new ones appear.

What I wanted to do in 'The Suit' is to base a story on the Cinematic Universe, but at the same time get in as much story background as I could from the comics. This leads to contradictions however, so I had to create a kind of 'blended' universe as a base for my story, in which I made several choices.

* * *

 **Universes: Technical Data**

In Star Trek, there are more or less precise manuals about technology, space topology, species, history, etc.

In the Marvel universe(s), there is a lot of information about species and history. However, the 'hard' tech data are hard to come by.

It seems that the terms 'galaxy' and 'universe' are sometimes mixed up. I try to be consistent with real astronomy:

\- The Milky Way, Andromeda, Large Magellanic Cloud and about 50 smaller galaxies are part of the Local Group of Galaxies. Andromeda is also known as M31. Some Marvel sources treat Andromeda and M31 as two different galaxies.

\- The diameter of the Milky Way is 100,000 light-years, the diameter of Andromeda is 200,000 light-years.

\- The distance between Andromeda and the Milky Way is 2,5 million light-years. The Local Group is slightly bigger. Most smaller galaxies are satellites of either the Milky Way or Andromeda.

\- The diameter of the visible universe is 13.8 billion light-years.

\- The real size of the universe is unknown. Theories predict that it has to be at least three times as big as the visible universe. The possibility exists that it is a lot bigger than that.

Transportation devices in the Marvel universe use FTL (faster than light) drives and teleportation. FTL drives seem to create custom wormholes to travel at fast speed through (sub?) space. Teleportation devices, sometimes called teleparture, portals, etc., can create a direct passageway between two distant places in space.

There is not much information about capacities of FTL and teleportation. I have the following working theories:

\- Common FTL drives in the Marvel universe allow to cross a galaxy within an our and to move between two galaxies between a day. This gives an average FTL speed of a billion times light-speed.

\- Knowhere contains a powerful personnel teleportation system. Knowhere is situated at the edge of the known universe. If this is interpreted as the edge of the visible universe, it's about 14 billion light-years from Earth. The teleport device of Knowhere is known to be powerful, probably unique. To reach all of the visible universe, it needs to be able to bridge a distance of 28 billion light-years max.

\- Knowhere needs to be connected with a custom ship-size portal system across the visible universe, so spaceships have fast access to it. If ships would arrive at FTL speed, it would take them many years to get to Knowhere. The Marvel storylines suggest Knowhere can be reached within a day.

* * *

 **Universes: Story Background Universe**

In 'my' universe, events happen in the following order:

1\. Rocket Raccoon is created on Halfworld as a genetically engineered, sentient raccoon. He has no cybernetic components. This is consistent with (3).

2\. He leaves Halfworld in a ship to save the planet but has lost many of his memories (13).

3\. He gets implants. In (19) is described that he has spinal implants. In a scene in the movie, the implants are shown (C), (D).

4\. He meets Groot. In the comics this will happen in (5).

Here my story ends

5\. He joins the Guardians of the Galaxy (in the comics, this happens in (5), right after he meets Groot.)

In the movie (A), Rocket teams up with Groot before he meets Star-Lord and will join the Guardians later. He already has implants when the story begins. The movie does not mention Halfworld.

I could have chosen to have Rocket and Groot meet before Rocket got his implants, but I chose to reverse the order for greater dramatic impact. This is in contradiction with the comic universe. The movie leaves this option open.

* * *

 **Characters: Groot**

Groot appears in many forms, there are a number of inconsistencies:

1\. A monster from outer space (1) vs. a noble, self-sacrificing hero (7)

2\. He speaks human language (6) vs. he speaks only 'Grootspeak' (8)

3\. Self-proclaimed monarch of Planet X (5) vs. King Groot from Planet X (11) vs. a fraudulent impersonator of the King of Planet X (12)

4\. A physics genius (10) vs. a funny sidekick with a good heart but no brain (A)

5\. A guy who loves small furry animals (18) (various)

6\. Rocket's friend and partner in crime (various)

OK, which Groot can we pick here?

Attributes 5 and 6 are pretty constant, so that's a keeper.

Groot may have been introduced as a monster once in ancient history, but since his first reintroduction in (5), he's a hero. He started out speaking human language, but this evolved to 'I am Groot' pretty fast and it stayed since then.

It's apparent that he is not a king, but an impostor. However, this makes no difference to his friends.

The physics genius (attribute 4) was presented in an inconclusive way in (10). However, I think that in the movie, he has been dumbed down more than he deserves. In my future stories, I want to play a bit with his intelligence. What's for sure, is that Groot has many unexpected qualities.

About his physical appearance: I can go with the movie look. His appearance is friendly, maybe a bit childish. This is the Groot I can imagine holding Rocket and petting him gently.

* * *

 **Characters: Rocket Raccoon**

1\. Halfworld chief of security (2) (13) vs. thief, arsonist, prison breaker, mercenary and bounty hunter (A) vs. a hero (various), for example (A) and (13)

2\. A genetically engineered, sentient raccoon (3) vs. genetically engineered and cybernetically augmented (A)

3\. A love for his life type with Lylla (2) vs. a wanna-be womanizer (22) (23)

4\. A figure roaming space by his own (4) vs. a duo with Groot (A) (22) vs. a person who is part of a team (various)

5\. Shows emotions in a balanced way, composed personality (2) (5) (6) vs. sarcastic, gun-slinging psychopath (15) (17) vs. foul-mouthed, sarcastic raccoon with a trauma and a less severe personality disorder (A)

6\. A real person (A) vs. Yosemite Sam in Space cartoon character (17)

7\. A raccoon (2) vs. not a raccoon (15) (16) vs. "What is a raccoon?" (A)

8\. Curious, smart above average (2) vs. tactical genius (5) vs. tactical genius, master hacker and smart tinkerer (A)

9\. A guy who has a thing for big guns (various)

10\. Best friends with Groot (various)

If you add up all versions of Rocket Raccoon, you get a person who is too self-contradictory to exist. Although some of the contradictions can be interpreted as developments. That's not a bad idea: consider Rocket Raccoon to be a 'round' character who had a more than interesting life and changed by what he experienced.

However, even in such a development scenario, there are some extremes that need to be taken out because they would make the character unbelievable.

My choice is to stick as closely as possible to James Gunn's movie (A) version and add in elements from the comics that enrich his past and personality.

I like the Halfworld Rocket (2), (3) and I think that after the lasting reintroduction of Rocket (5), his whereabouts can be used to create a profile of a developing character. My biography of him would be somewhat like this:

 _Rocket is genetically engineered and born on Halfworld. He grows up with his animal, human and robot friends/ colleagues and falls in love with Lylla. He becomes chief of security._

 _After and incident, he leaves and has his memory erased in an act of self-sacrifice. He roams the cosmos and is confused. He can't get back to his old job and starts criminal activities for lack of alternatives._

 _He ends up in the wrong hands and gets implants. This is severely traumatising. He gets to know Groot, who becomes his only loyal friend. Together they continue to do a lot of illegal stuff and finally go bounty hunting._

This could have happened before the movie (A) starts. Rocket has a bit of an extraverted borderline personality and likes to push people away by being sarcastic and sometimes obnoxious. At the other hand, he likes to be respected. He's no longer a hero, but acts in a self serving way. He's a lot smarter than everyone else and knows how to make the right decisions. His friendship with the Guardians allows him to rediscover his heroic inner self, which brings him more happiness than the pursuit of wealth.

I solved contradictions in his personality this way:

1\. He starts out with a respectable job but slips into criminality, as he needs to make a living in a rough universe.

2\. He is genetically engineered on Halfworld. This means: he has started as a fertilised egg cell containing plain raccoon DNA. The robots have changed this DNA, to add human capacities to his genome. The modified egg cell has probably been inserted into the uterus of a host animal, he grew like any embryo and has been born like a normal baby. If the robots have done a good job in genetic engineering, he doesn't need any additional operations or implants.

The movie seems to suggest that Rocket has been created as a genetically engineered cybernetic organism. This can be interpreted as if he would have been created as a kind of Frankenstein Monster, be it a more fluffy and cute one. There is great fan fiction that follows this line.

But I choose to let the implant story happen in a much later phase of his life, outside Halfworld. The comics support this 'theory'. Before (19), there is no mention of implants. For example, in (12), you can see Rocket sitting on his bed with no shirt on. On his back, there are no implants yet. So he has been genetically engineered on Halfword, but got implants long after he left.

3\. I choose for a Rocket who has romantic needs buried deep inside him, more than a macho one-night stand guy. I think he needs loyal friends and loved ones. But in the future after my story, maybe he will change and become more of a Don Juan, who knows? His personality problem kind of chases the women away, he probably has to work on that a bit.

4\. Rocket is a team player, despite all his social and personality problems. I think the lonely period between him leaving Halfworld and meeting Groot is something that didn't agree with him.

5\. Rocket is basically a composed guy with good leadership capacities. In the Abnett and Lanning stories, for example (9), he is second in command after Peter Quill. He has a good working and friendship relation with Peter. He can be a know-it-all from time to time, but OK, he's incredibly smart.  
In the Bill Mantlo (2), (3) and Abnett and Lanning episodes (7) - (13), there are no serious signs of personality disorder. The idea of Keith Giffen to give him OCD (5) is quickly abandoned.

Unfortunately, Bendis has given him many anti-social tendencies. This starts right in (14), where Rocket is killing a prisoner by shooting him in the face, without even looking at him! One of the worst scenes is in (15), where he tries to shoot a young Nova who called him a raccoon. In (17) he says "Blam! I murdered you" for the first time. Some fans, including myself, believe that this is ruining the character.

I hate the psychopath tendencies that Bendis put in. It's not funny. Not inside the nuthouse and not outside. Rocket is a hero character. He saved two planets(13), (A), for crying out loud! A hero can never be a psychopath. You can love a hero, but you can't love a psychopath. Because a psychopath doesn't give a damn about you either.

In the movie (A), Rocket shows signs of PTSS and personality problems, but not nearly as extreme as Bendis makes them. Of course, such personality traits can't just pop out of nowhere because a new writer is in charge. There has to be a past history. It makes sense that his period of solitude, his criminal career and especially the experiments that have been performed on him will have traumatised him and changed his personality.  
In The Suit, I try to fill in one of these gaps in his personal history.

6\. James Gunn, the maker of (A), decisively wanted to make a real person out of Rocket. I admire his choice and I'm going with it all the way. I regard the cartoon version of him in some comics and some animated cartoons as ignorable sidetracks.

7\. Rocket Raccoon clearly is a raccoon. Or, if you really want to be politically correct: a genetically engineered sentient raccoon. The fact that, in the movie, he forgot what he is may be due to his memory erasure after he left Halfworld.

8\. Apparently, an astonishing thing happens to his brain later in his life. It's like his I.Q has grown by 50 points. His tactical insights are sharper as ever, he has a knack for operating and hacking machines. How did he learn all this stuff? Another story gap that needs to be filled?

9\. Rocket has been a good shot from the start. Probably his sensitive and dexterous raccoon hands allow him to be very precise. Very gradually, his guns grow larger and larger. Maybe because the action gets more serious, maybe because the universe treats him badly and he needs to step up, maybe because he becomes more aware of the fact that he is small on average and he needs to compensate?

10\. Best friends with Groot: this is a constant in all stories where he knows Groot.

Appearance: I use the movie CGI model to imagine how he looks like. I believe he should look a lot like a raccoon. Bill Mantlo's Rocket looks nice too, except for the ineptly long legs. The more he does not look like a raccoon (red eyes without pupils, fantasy patches on his face, protruding rodent teeth, etc.), the more he just is not Rocket.

* * *

 **Inspiration: Marvel Comics**

I was inspired by comic (19). If you're a Rocket fan, this comic is a must-have! In the comic, the raccoon is handed over to a Kree science lab, tragically. There, his body is enclosed in a metal device, his head, arms and legs sticking out. The scientists wear operation masks and gloves. The Kree want to extract whatever knowledge they can from this 'specimen'. The indifferent attitude of the scientists and the various reactions of Rocket, from fear to begging to anger, are excellent. The way his expressions are drawn are brilliant.

One issue later, in (20), the Kree Supreme Intelligence orders the disappointed scientists that Rocket should be let go. One picture shows our poor furry friend after the ordeal is over. Again, Kudo's for the graphic artist. The way he looks, sad and defeated, makes you feel so sorry for him. Why him?! How can anybody do this to Rocket?!

I noticed that some tubes run out of his lower body in (19). I decided to make this point a little bit more explicit. It fits in with the 'dehumanising' treatment the Kree give him. He is humiliated, which adds to his psychic trauma.

I think that the follow-up in issue 17 (21) is an anti-climax. This has inspired me even more to write a story that fills the gap.

In (21), Rocket has been released after a dreadful, humiliating experience. But when he gets back to the Milano, all we get is half a page of him making jokes with Drax. Case closed. This scene is even drawn by another artist, halfway the comic.

In later issues, no deliverance either. Rocket is just hunky-dory. Doesn't torture in a Kree lab have consequences for a character's personal development? That's a trademark Marvel story: a being ends up in a lab and then something goes terribly wrong. Why didn't Rocket get a proper follow-through? Why did the writers pass this chance for character development and drama?

I sometimes have the feeling that Marvel treats Rocket as a step-child. Now he's a star. As a result, there is an explosion of Rocket appearances in Marvel magazines. Rocket in ten different flavours, pick and choose. His appearance in animated cartoon series is even worse, with a different voice actor for almost every episode. Cheap entertainment.

Why not take the character more seriously? I think James Gunn has treated him with more respect than his legal owners. He's not some kind of Bugs Bunny you can turn into a cash cow. Rocket has the potential to be a character with depth. After thirty years, he's here to stay. Honour and respect to Bill Mantlo for giving birth to him!

* * *

 **Inspiration: Guardians of the Galaxy Movie**

 _Quote from the movie:_

Rocket Raccoon: " _He thinks I'm some stupid thing! He does!_ "  
[points to Drax]  
Rocket Raccoon: " _Well, I didn't ask to get made!_ "  
Rocket Raccoon: " _I didn't ask to be torn apart and put back together over and over and turned into some little monster!_ "  
[begins to cry]

That's heartbreaking! I based the name of one of the chapters on Rocket's outcry. We don't know what actually happened to him, but can use our imagination.

What I describe in The Suit is cruel and sickening. I felt the need to depict it as explicit as possible. To make Rocket a real person who suffered a lot. So it makes sense how his personality will develop hereafter. I also want to enable you, the reader, to be with him, even in his darkest hours. If you love him, can you bear with him what he had to bear?

But OK, my story is an interpretation, I hope it works. There are other legitimate interpretations. To quote James Gunn:

" _It's a real, little, somewhat mangled beast that's alone. There's no one else in the universe quite like him, he's been created by these guys to be a mean-ass fighting machine._ "

Makes you wonder what will happen in the 2017 sequel ... will we learn more about what happened to Rocket?

* * *

 **Inspiration: Fan Fiction**

The story Flowers for Rocket, written by Hyaena, inspired me to give the surgeon a stoic attitude that led him to not give Rocket anaesthetics. I love your story! Unfortunately, in my story there was nobody there to help Rocket. In the 'Flowers' story, Peter was there to support him, which I liked very much.

The story Breathing by DontBeAZombie. I really enjoyed that one and other ones you wrote about Rocket and his intimate moments with the crew. I'm especially grateful for the tip you put in the comment section: the Youtube movie Smokey the Sleepy Raccoon. Smokey is so adorable! I watched it over and over again and used it to try to describe Rocket's yawn in chapter 13 as accurately as possible.

* * *

 **Footnotes:**

 **References to comics published by Marvel Comics**

 **Ref - - Title - - Vol. - - Issue - - Year - - Writer**

 **1 - - Tales to Astonish - - (-) - - 13 - - 1960 - - Stan Lee**

 **2 - - Rocket Raccoon - - 1 - - 1 - - 1985 - - Bill Mantlo**

 **3 - - Rocket Raccoon - - 1 - - 3 - - 1985 - - Bill Mantlo**

 **4 - - Sensational She-Hulk - - (-) - - 45 - - 1992 - - John Byrne**

 **5 - - Annihilation Conquest - Starlord - - (-) - - 1 - - 2007 - - Keith Giffen**

 **6 - - Annihilation Conquest - Starlord - - (-) - - 2 - - 2007 - - Keith Giffen**

 **7 - - Annihilation Conquest - - (-) - - 5 - - 2008 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **8 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 2 - - 9 - - 2009 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **9 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 2 - - 13 - - 2009 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **10 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 2 - - 17 - - 2009 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **11 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 2 - - 24 - - 2010 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **12 - - Annihilators - - (-) - - 1 - - 2011 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **13 - - Annihilators - - (-) - - 3 - - 2011 - - Dan Abnett & Andy Lanning**

 **14 - - Avengers Assemble - - 2 - - 5 - - 2012 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **15 - - Nova - - 5 - - 2 - - 2013 - - Jeph Loeb**

 **16 - - All-New X-Men - - (-) - - 23 - - 2014 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **17 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 3 - - 2 - - 2013 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **18 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 3 - - 14 - - 2014 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **19 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 3 - - 15 - - 2014 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **20 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 3 - - 16 - - 2014 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **21 - - Guardians of the Galaxy - - 3 - - 17 - - 2014 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **22 - - Rocket Raccoon - - 2 - - 1 - - 2014 - - Skottie Young**

 **23 - - Guardians of the Galaxy Annual - - (-) - - 1 - - 2014 - - Brian Michael Bendis**

 **References to movie, reels and Fragments**

(A) Guardians of the Galaxy movie (2014).

(B) In the movie, a body scan of Rocket is shown in the scene at 22 minutes and 4 seconds (capture of the Guardians by the Nova Corps). On the site _The Science of… GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY_ , you can see a the following screen capture of this scene.

I wanted to introduce an explanation of the magenta parts of the scan. What they are, how they got there and why those locations.

(C) Rocket's mutilated back can be seen in the movie after he leaves the shower in the Kyln prison at 25 minutes 12 seconds.

(D) The visual effects company FrameStore VFX, the creator of the model for Rocket in the movie, has a show reel that contains a very detailed look at the implants at 1 minute 43 seconds. Google for _Guardians of the Galaxy - Rocket Reel_.


End file.
